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CAMPAIGN DIARY OF A 
FRENCH OFFICER 



CAMPAIGN DIARY OF A 
FRENCH OFFICER 



BY 

SOUS-LIEUTENANT RENE' NICOLAS 
OF THE FRENCH INFANTRY 



Translated 
By Katharine Babbitt 




BOSTON AND NEW YORK 

HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 

The Riverside Press Cambridge 

1917 



T3S^S,5 



COPYRIGHT, I917, BY HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Published March iqij 



4}^ 

APR -4 1917 

©C1.A457802 



z/lux grandes ames d'Amerique qui ont si 
Men su comprendre et aimer la France. 



PREFACE 0/ a FRIEND 

A Campaign Diary, do you say, Reader? If 
the original were before you, you would not 
find it, like these printed pages, clean and 
whole. On it are the marks of war — blood- 
stains and smears of mud, and, from cover to 
cover, a hole made by a tiny piece of steel. 
These you may not see, but for the rest no 
change has been made. The author is present- 
ing to you his notes just as he set them down 
at the front. The facts are true, though the 
form is brief, almost impersonal, and entirely 
without the literary flourishes that it would 
have been so easy to add apres coup. 

He is very young, this French officer. 
When the war broke out he was still at the 
university, a member of that inner circle of 
the Ecole Normale Superieure, where he was 
completing his studies in literature. After 
the mobiHzation, he qualified rapidly for an 
officer's commission and started for the front. 
His first months there were spent in the mud 
and desolation of that barren plain known 
as la Champagne Pouilleuse. They were 
vii 



PREFACE 

months made difficult by frequent skir- 
mishes with the Boches, and by a constant 
struggle with that other and more relentless 
enemy — the mud of Champagne. In April, 
191 5, his regiment left the trenches, and 
crossed on foot, by daily stages, the great For- 
est of Argonne, all fragrant with the spring. 
We meet him again early in May before Arras, 
on the eve of the Artois offensive. Only the 
beginning of this offensive is described in 
the Diary. On May 9th, he fell, seriously 
wounded, between the French and German 
lines, ten yards from the enemy's trench. 
He himself will describe to you that terrible 
day and his agonizing return to the French 
positions. 

And that is all — three months of the war. It 
is not much, but it is enough to quicken for all 
time the pulse of the man who has lived it. If, 
among these pages, there are some that for a 
moment make you feel the horror and the 
thrill of war, then say to yourself. Reader, it 
is not one man alone who has thought these 
thoughts and endured these sufferings. It is 
the history of the youth of a whole nation. 

L. Plantefol 
Ecdle Normale Siiperieure 
Paris, 191 7 



FOREWORD 

During the long hours of idleness spent in the 
trenches or behind the front, almost all the 
soldiers write in their carnets de route. And the 
slender notebook which they keep constantly 
by them is their greatest friend. It is the con- 
fidant of their troubles and their joys, of their 
heroism and their discouragement, which they 
describe naively — the reflection of their in- 
nermost thoughts. As for myself, I tried to 
jot down my experiences as objectively as 
possible, bringing together the impressions 
and details that counted most to me. In so 
far as I have succeeded in depicting only my- 
self, may it be remembered that my ego, if it 
is not the centre of the world, is necessarily 
the centre of this journal, written without any 
thought of publication. 

When I visited America recently I came to 
realize the widespread interest in the European 
War shown by the citizens of the New World. 
To reheve the misfortunes that follow in the 
trail of war, they have brought to bear the 
great strength of their sympathy and of their 
ix 



FOREWORD 

material resources. But, not content with this, 
they give proof of a keen desire to know ^' just 
how they do things over there." And the many 
questions I have been asked, and the earnest 
attention accorded to my accounts of the war, 
are my excuse for publishing this journal. 

I was not a soldier at the moment the war 
broke out; I was called to the colors in the first 
days of August, 1914, and went through the 
training for the infantry. Then my university 
degrees, together with an examination, made 
it possible for me to join a training-class for 
officers. At the end of this course, I was given 
the rank of Second Lieutenant on probation 
and started for the front. 

Except for a few trifling omissions, this book 
reproduces exactly the notes. I took at the 
front, though the last two chapters were writ- 
ten rather a long time after the events they 
describe — the reader will understand why. 
Nor is the form finished: for how shall one 
point phrases to the tune of grapeshot? But 
the story is a true one, lived and lived in- 
tensely. In this fact lies the little merit the 
work may possess. 

Rene Nicolas 



CONTENTS 



I. ARRIVAL IN THE ARMY ZONE — IMPRESSIONS 

BEHIND THE FRONT I 

II. THE MARCH TO THE TRENCHES I3 

III. DESCRIPTION OF THE TRENCH — LIFE IN THE 

FIRST LINE — BOMBARDMENT, GERMAN 
ATTACK 22 

IV. RECUPERATING — LIFE IN CANTONMENT AND 

IN CAMP 41 

V. MUD — CORPSES — TAKING A GERMAN 
TRENCH — IN THE SECOND LINE — RE- 
TURN TO THE FIRST LINE — PARADE 
MARCH BEFORE THE FLAG 50 

VI. ENCAMPMENT — IN THE FOURTH LINE — 
FATIGUE DUTY — VISIT TO THE ARTIL- 
LERY 72 

VII. IN THE FRONT LINES — THE TRENCH CAN- 
NON — GAS BOMBS — CAPTURE OF A 
BOCHE TRENCH — GRENADES — HILL 181 
— IN THE SECOND LINE — OUR LAST DAYS 
IN CHAMPAGNE 89 

VIII. A MONTH AWAY FROM THE TRENCHES .... I06 

xi 



CONTENTS 

IX. BEFORE THE GRAND OFFENSIVE (aRTOIS, 

MAY 1-8, 1915) 119 

X. THE ATTACK I39 

XI. EVACUATION — THE SANITARY TRAIN — THE 

HOSPITAL 155 



CAMPAIGN DIARY OF A 
FRENCH OFFICER 



CAMPAIGN DIARY 

OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

February-May, 191^ 

CHAPTER I 

ARRIVAL IN THE ARMY ZONE — IMPRESSIONS 
BEHIND THE FRONT 

February 12. On the train, which at last is 
bearing us away to the war. My companions 
are asleep, wearied by a day and night of this 
endless journey. But I cannot sleep for joy. 
One thought possesses me. I am on my way to 
fight! If I had so wished I could have re- 
mained with the General Staff as interpreter, 
but what I crave is action — the intense, mad 
action of battle. The enthusiasm of the first 
days of the war has not left me, but grew 
greater during the long months I had to spend 
in training-camps, where I learned first to 
be a soldier, then an officer. As soon as I re- 
ceived my appointment to the grade of sec- 
ond lieutenant on probation, I asked for and 
I 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

obtained permission to start for the front. Am 
I cherishing illusions? Is it real, this glory of 
war that makes my head swim? 

But I am happy. The sadness of saying 
good-bye to my mother I have left far behind. 
The weight already began to lift when we 
made our triumphal departure from that lit- 
tle snow-covered town through which we 
marched, with the band at our head and the 
Marseillaise on our lips and in our hearts, 
amid the cheers of the people. 

Just now the train is going through a beau- 
tiful bit of country. Never has the valley of 
the Saone, that I know so well, seemed so 
fair to look upon. Truly, La doulce France is 
a mistress we may proudly live and die for. 
Die? No. I have a conviction that I shall not 
be killed in the war; I feel sure I shall be able 
to do my duty to the end, and once my task 
is finished, return to my mother and my own 
Hfe. 

February ij. We have just got out of the 
train. I am writing in the friendly warmth of 
a room some peasants have put at my disposal. 

This morning, in the fog and chill of early 



ARRIVAL IN THE ARMY ZONE 

February dawn, our train stopped in the mid- 
dle of a vast plain, grizzly and wet, whose mo- 
notony was unbroken except for a few clumps 
of trees. The bugler gave us the signal to de- 
train by playing our regimental march. In- 
stantly the men streamed out, still heavy with 
sleep, and benumbed by these two days of 
travelling. I hurried to the cars of my section, 
lined up my men and stacked arms while 
waiting for orders. Fatigues were detailed at 
once to get rations and unload the cars. 

But where were we? No one but the com- 
mander knew our itinerary in advance, for 
of course it has to be kept secret. We had a 
vague idea we were bound for Champagne. 
The station bore a name I did not know: 
Cuperly. I looked on my map and found 
that this village was right in the field of 
Chalons, several kilometres to the south of 
the villages of Perthes and Hurlus, which 
have so often been mentioned in the dis- 
patches of late. So we are to be launched in 
the midst of an offensive ! What joy ! 

I hastily scribbled a card to my mother 
and gave it to a trainman, who promised to 
mail it. 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

As we stood waiting in the cold, our atten- 
tion was drawn to the autobuses of a provision 
convoy going along the road phantom-like 
through the fog. And we noticed also a dull 
rumble like a prolonged roll of thunder. It 
was cannon. 

"Sling knapsacks! Take arms! Fours right! 
Forward! March!" And the battalion swung 
into a road that was broken up and covered 
with mud, a gray, filthy, liquid mud that 
seemed to flood the whole countryside. An 
artillery convoy came by and spattered us 
badly. It was cold. 

Two kilometres farther on we halted at the 
edge of a village where we were to breakfast. 
I promptly attended to the kitchens of my 
section; two men from each squad went to get 
wood, and before long four fires were burning 
merrily. Pans were brought forth from their 
places above the knapsacks, and soon the 
portions of coffee and sugar provided us with 
a "juice" ^ that was much appreciated in 
the dampness of the winter morning. I gave 
orders to warm some canned beef in wine for 
the men, and they had a real feast. While our 
* JuSy soldiers' slang for cofiFee. 
4 



ARRIVAL IN THE ARMY ZONE 

soldiers were resting after their meal, we sec- 
tion commanders, together with the other offi- 
cers, accepted the hospitality of some artillery 
officers, who made us welcome with several 
bottles of champagne. The festivity was at 
its height when the bugle sounded. It was time 
to start out once again. For -what destination? 
We did not know. 

We marched two hours along the slippery 
road before coming to La Cheppe, where we 
were to await the return of the brigade that 
was in the trenches. We took possession of 
our quarters. My section was comfortably bil- 
leted in a large barn well suppHed with straw, 
and I chose to make my abode among my 
poilus. I should like to be in closer contact 
with them and I am determined to make 
friends with them if possible. When the regi- 
ment left the training-camp I was able to pro- 
cure a few little extras that they wanted, and 
this evening they came and invited me to 
dinner. The artful member of the third squad 
had succeeded in getting into the good graces 
of an old peasant woman, who gave him two 
chickens. The men insisted on my doing the 
honors, and I accepted with pleasure. We 
5 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

chatted together familiarly and I told them 
how glad I was to be at the front, and en- 
larged especially on the great things I ex- 
pected of them. ''With you, lieutenant, we 
will go anjrwhere," said a corporal, and they all 
applauded. Of course I was much pleased. 

And then what a welcome the peasants gave 
us! My old hostess was determined to give up 
her bedroom to me, but I told her I would 
rather sleep on the straw with my men. At 
least I am making use of her warm kitchen 
where I am scribbHng these lines in my diary 
after writing to all my family. 

But to-morrow? What of to-morrow? The 
roar of the cannon is very loud. An attack is 
to be made to-night and I shall have no share 
in it. But my turn will come soon, I hope. 

February 14. The booming of the cannon all 
night kept me from sleeping. However, I was 
snug and warm in my bed of straw beside my 
dear friend Henry. We are glad to be together 
at the war after being chums in college. 

I am on duty this morning with my section. 
We are posted for police duty at a crossroads, 
and we are instructed, in addition to keeping 
6 



ARRIVAL IN THE ARMY ZONE 

order in the village, to regulate the movements 
of the convoys which pass incessantly. What 
an infernal whirl! Not a minute passes with- 
out something going by — a great ammunition 
train, heavy cannons drawn by motor tractors, 
a regiment of infantry returning from the 
trenches, muddy but triumphant. The poilus 
are radiant. We surround them. They give 
details. Good news! "Hot fight, all right, but 
the Boches are catching it like fun." 

And then there go our old Paris autobuses, 
transformed into meat wagons. Some of them 
still flaunt their signs: Madeleine — Bastille, 
Neuilly — Hotel de Ville, Clichy — Odeon. 
One is marked "complet," and the places, if 
you please, are filled by huge cattle. O valiant 
autobuses of Paris, you forget your luxurious 
existence of Parisian bourgeois and jolt bravely 
on through the mud of Champagne, accepting 
these hardships to save your country. We 
take off our hats to you in your coat of mud, 
for you also are doing your duty. 

I went outside a moment to have a look 
around the village. It is very nearly intact, 
as it is out of range of cannon. The inhabit- 
ants are either peasants or refugees from the 
7 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

invaded districts. Every one is busied in some 
way with the soldiers. Many have opened 
little shops and sell provisions, underclothing, 
and various other articles. Wine merchants 
are not very numerous, and the sale of spirits 
is strictly regulated. It is necessary to get 
permission of the officers, and they occasion- 
ally give it, wishing to improve the army 
ordinary. But the commissariat is generous 
and each soldier receives a pint of wine a day. 
We officers have a special mess. We eat at the 
house of a peasant who has loaned us his rooms. 
Our cook has been a chef in the big hotels of 
Nice. He is excellent, and has just brought 
me at my post a most savory roast of mutton. 
Weather still lowering. I took out of my 
little chest my old volume of Rabelais and I 
occupy my leisure moments feasting on the 
exploits of Picrochole. I have brought along 
a few books that are easy to handle, mostly 
our great classics that I have been neglecting 
these latter years. I wish to keep up my intel- 
lectual life. 

February i6. Noise of battle in the distance. 
Convoys pass back and forth incessantly. 
8 



ARRIVAL IN THE ARMY ZONE 

This evening the battalion had manoeuvres; 
the men must not be left idle. Not that any 
one wants to loaf. We are all burning to get 
into action. It is tiresome to be so near the 
fight and know only its echoes. 

After supper I went for a walk with my 
friend. Twilight and absolute calm brooded 
over the plains of Champagne. The cold, 
round moon, palely reflected in the mud and 
ruts, cast glints as of steel. Nature, so indiffer- 
ent to the deeds of men, helped us to forget 
them for a time, and our talk grew intimate 
and turned on old times as we walked along 
in the silence of the night. 

February 17. The regiment returns to-day 
from the trenches. We are getting better 
acquainted with the peasants, who are the 
very soul of kindness. They have been telling 
us of their sufferings: how the Boches occu- 
pied the village, — without destroying it how- 
ever, for they expected to settle there for a 
long time, — and then the endless files of 
Germans who kept calling out as they passed 
that the gates of Paris were open to them; 
finally, the return of these same Germans, 
9 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

shamefaced, pushed back by the irresistible 
thrust of our victory of the Marne. And these 
good people went mad with joy when behind 
the fleeing enemy they saw the first lines of the 
French with the bugler marching at the head, 
their native land coming back to them. 

We have just inspected supplies and equip- 
ment. Each soldier has twelve biscuit, cans of 
"bully" beef, coffee, sugar, and bouillon cubes, 
without counting his own provisions, which 
are plentiful. The reserve suppHes are sacred; 
they are never to be touched except under 
express orders. Each man has also one hundred 
and fifty cartridges. All these material details 
have been attended to, but this is not the 
whole of our readiness. We are also filled to 
bursting with enthusiasm, determination, and 
eagerness to fight. We start soon for the fir- 
ing line. 

February ig. We are ordered to go and join 
a different regiment; our battalion is detached 
and we are to fill in the vacancies made by 
the recent fighting. I hope I shall be able to 
stay with my men. It is my most earnest 
desire. 

lO 



IMPRESSIONS BEHIND THE FRONT 

February 20. This morning we left La 
Cheppe to go to S. S. Weather dry; landscape 
still depressing, a desolate, muddy plain with 
a few scattered trees. 

At Suippes we had our first real impression 
of war; the town is half demolished and the 
chateau and factories are dismal ruins — de- 
struction wherever you look. And cannon 
thunder in the distance. A shell fell with a 
great crash on the railroad track near by, and 
a great mass of earth rose slowly into the air. 
The Boches are very fond of aiming at this 
track, but their marmites will have a hard 
time stopping this enormous traffic. What an 
endless number of cars and sheds, what moun- 
tains of merchandise! And the procession of 
trains never stops. 

At last we reached S. S. and came in touch 
with our new regiment. I belong to the 
Eleventh Company and command the second 
section. I am to keep my men. The officers 
received us kindly. We are lucky enough to 
arrive at a moment of activity, and we shall 
not lack work. 

February 21. The village is largely in ruins. 
II 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

The church has been turned into a hospital. 
Its steeple is hidden by a covering of branches, 
and from a distance it probably looks to the 
enemy aviators just like the neighboring 
trees. A Httle farther on was a shower-bath, 
which was welcome, for we were pretty well 
plastered with mud. 

The cemetery, in the midst of the fields, is 
full of Httle wooden crosses. This evening I 
saw the funeral of an ojficer — a pine coffin 
followed by a bare handful of men — the regi- 
ment was probably in the trenches. A soldier- 
priest with the military medal on his breast 
pronounced the benediction. 

We have no news of anything or anybody. 
No mail of any kind has come through yet. 
Shall I have to go into the trenches without 
receiving a single letter? I do not need en- 
couragement, but I wish I could have had 
some word from home. Well, we start for the 
trenches to-morrow. 



CHAPTER II 

THE MARCH TO THE TRENCHES 

February 23. At last! I have just been ad- 
mitted to the sacred ranks of the poilu; I have 
just had a magnificent baptism of fire, and 
really the Boches have done me honor. But 
since this journal is to be a faithful record of 
my campaign, I must go back a little, and 
follow in order the events of the last few days. 
Three days ago, then, we came to the 
trenches. Orders arrived in the morning. The 
captain called us together and showed us our 
respective positions on a map of our line of 
defenses. Our section extended to the east of 
the Perthes-Hurlus line facing the north. Then 
after we section commanders had received 
final instructions, the company assembled and 
the captain made a short speech. Most of us 
were youngsters who had not yet been under 
fire, or else men who were wounded at the 
beginning of the war. *'Our introduction to 
the first-line trenches would not give us a very 
complete notion of what war is really like. 
13 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

Our trench will be clean and well built, we 
shall not have to attack, and the Germans 
will certainly have the good taste not to bother 
us too much." It remains to be seen whether 
these predictions were destined to be fulfilled 
by the events that followed. 

We were to start at 5 p.m. Troops are always 
relieved and moved at night in order to escape 
being seen by the enemy and avoid inoppor- 
tune bombardments. The day was spent in 
preparations. All the men took baths; then 
stocked up their haversacks and filled their 
canteens. They bought great quantities of 
canned goods; also chocolate, condensed milk, 
and cigarettes. Any superfluous articles were 
taken out of the knapsacks and left in one of 
the rooms of the encampment. As the cold 
was sharp, mufflers were given out, and warm 
helmets, knitted by the devoted hands of the 
\vomen of France or of America. The men then 
rigged themselves out after the true poilu 
fashion — greatcoats with the flaps let down, 
double leggings, cartridge boxes full to burst- 
ing, canteens and haversacks bulging at their 
hips, and above them the fringe of a long 
muffler ready to be wrapped three times 
14 



THE MARCH TO THE TRENCHES 

around their necks and over mouths from 
which protruded the ever-present pipe. Last 
of all, the stick, fantastically carved, to aid in 
walking through the mud. 

We ate early. At four o'clock I called the 
roll and made sure that everything was com- 
plete — food, tools, equipment — and that 
the guns were clean. I gave parting instruc- 
tions to the cooks who were to remain at the 
hillock of Hurlus. Everything was in good 
shape. The company assembled on the road. 
There was a general roll-call. Beside us, the 
three other companies of the battalion were 
occupied in the same way. At a whistle from 
the major the companies began to move. 

While we were going through the village 
we kept at attention and shouldered arms, but 
as soon as we got by the cemetery the com- 
mand was given, *' Route step! March!" — 
and then began our climb toward the enemy. 

The road was appalling. It was broken 
up by endless convoys and covered with an 
abominable, sticky mud which made every 
step an effort, besides being very slippery. We 
envied the sappers of the engineering corps 
who, with their barbed wire and heavy tools, 

15 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

were sent to the front in the little Decauville 
railroad that runs along beside the road, and 
is used for carrjdng provisions and wounded. 

We marched a long time. At the end of the 
first hour we made the regulation halt, on the 
edge of a little wood, where there was a very 
pretty view of the plain, dotted here and there 
with ruined villages. 

Suddenly a terrific report right beside us 
gave us a disagreeable start. The captain told 
me it was a piece of heavy artillery twenty 
metres away. I looked, but could see nothing. 
What is more, not once during our whole 
march did I succeed in making out a single 
piece of artillery. Inasmuch as those who pass 
right beside our guns cannot see them, all the 
more reason to hope that enemy aviators will 
not be able to ferret them out! 

But if the big guns were not visible, it was 
easy enough to see the gunners, or at least 
such of them as were not busy with their pieces. 
They sat smoking their pipes at their front 
doors, for these gentlemen, mind you, have 
houses. Nicely hidden under the trees are 
mud huts, all covered with sod and branches. 
They look like the giant ant-hills depicted in 
i6 



THE MARCH TO THE TRENCHES 

natural history books, or the habitations of a 
Hottentot village. Stairs lead down, seem- 
ingly deep into the earth, and a peep inside 
that I managed to get as I passed, convinced 
me that this primitive form of architecture 
shelters a comfortable and modern interior. 

We kept on marching, ever and always in 
the mud that plastered our shoes and flecked 
the bottoms of our coats with a border of gray 
spots that made them look like altar cloths 
adorned with precious embroidery. Above 
our heads shrieked our shells, outstripping us 
on our way to the Boches; and very near at 
hand our cannon thundered. This seemed to 
displease our friends the Teutons, for suddenly 
a great humming, as of a monster insect, grew 
louder and louder and came straight toward 
us, making everybody duck, before it finally 
burst two hundred metres farther on. The 
first impression is not at all pleasant. The 
conviction is crystal clear that this snarling 
mass is headed straight upon you, and there 
flash through your mind all the tales of hor- 
rible wounds you have ever read or heard of 
— men blown to bits or disembowelled or what 
not — none of them things one is anxious to ex- 
17 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

perience at first hand. Another, then another 
shell whistles by. Every head bobs down, 
while we all try in vain to hide our qualms 
under a smile; our nerves are not yet hard- 
ened to the fray. ^'Column of files!" com- 
mands the captain, and the column marching 
four abreast melts into four long lines, very 
far apart, advancing without speaking. A few 
harmless shells still went by, but just as the 
French seemed to be getting angry, and the 
detonations barked louder and louder, the 
Germans decided that the joke was stale, and 
nothing more came to make our hearts beat 
pitapat. However, we kept on ducking every 
time a shell came too near, — whether French 
or German it made no difference, — and we 
began to laugh every time we got a scare for 
nothing. 

We climbed over a whole series of trenches, 
four or five lines, one behind the other, per- 
fectly constructed, ready to be used in case it 
is necessary to fall back. The men in command 
are taking no chances. 

After a fresh halt, the battalion formed once 
more by sections, four abreast, and stacked 
arms. We had reached the kitchens, hidden 
i8 



THE MARCH TO THE TRENCHES 

in a little ravine, and buried deep under- 
ground. Pots and pans came out of their 
places and were handed to the cooks. Then 
bread was given out, and preserves and wine. 
We were not to have coffee until morning in 
the trenches. 

We set out again about 9 p.m. One more 
hill to climb and we should be in the com- 
munication trenches. 

The battalion had been broken up and two 
companies only were to follow this sector, the 
two others going more to the east. Suddenly, 
down a slight incline we slid into the communi- 
cation trench one by one and began to march 
between two walls of earth where we were 
entirely sheltered; it was hard to believe that 
we had arrived near the enemy. The night was 
dark and silent; no noise of cannon, only 
a few stray bullets that went over our heads 
with a sound like the swish of silk. A fine rain 
began to fall. After a march of about five hun- 
dred metres, the command to halt was given. 
We were at our destination. "The commander 
of the second section," said a voice in the dark- 
ness. I stepped forward. It was the guide 
attached to the troops we were about to relieve 
19 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

who was to conduct me to my position. I re- 
ceived from my predecessor instructions with 
regard to the sector: two half -sections in sep- 
arate salients, two listening-patrols, the en- 
emy one hundred and fifty metres away, 
sector quiet, no casualties during the days 
he had spent there. But the Germans are 
continually on the watch, and we must be 
careful not to show our heads above the edge. 

When I had gained this information I asked 
the sergeant who was with me to go bring up 
the men. As my section came up on the right, 
the men we were replacing filed by on the left. 
Soon I was sole master of the field. One squad 
was quickly detailed for guard duty; double 
listening-patrols, refieved every hour, posted 
in shell holes in front of the trenches in the 
midst of the wire entanglement. 

The night was very quiet, but I did not 
attempt to sleep. Besides, no one had any 
great desire to sleep without knowing the 
place a little better, and then the nearness of 
the silent enemy is a bit awe-inspiring. Just 
before dawn it is necessary to be doubly vig- 
ilant, for that is the critical moment; many 
surprise attacks, it seems, take place then. At 
20 



THE MARCH TO THE TRENCHES 

four in the morning a messenger came from 
the captain to ask for a report of the events 
of the night. I was obliged to answer that 
nothing had happened. 

Coffee arrived shortly, comforting and a 
little warm even yet. Then the day broke, 
cold, gray, and foggy. At last I was able to 
look around me. 



CHAPTER III 

DESCRIPTION OF THE TRENCH — LIFE IN THE FIRST 
LINE — BOMBARDMENT, GERMAN ATTACK 

So I examine my domain. It is not very 
extensive, one hundred and twenty metres 
at the most, occupied by my sixty men. My 
trench is composed of the communication 
trench and two large salients, each contain- 
ing half a section or two squads. Its general 
arrangement is as follows: — 

Each of the salients is divided in the middle 
by a bomb-shield, and contains therefore two 
squads, whose dug-outs, rather deep, are at 
the right and left ends of the salient. In front, 
in shell holes, the Hstening-patrols are posted 
during the night. There are machine guns in 
each of the salients. My headquarters are so 
placed that I am in immediate touch with both 
my half -sections. A Httle winding trench leads 
to my dug-out, which is about two metres 
underground. It is comfortable and contains 
a rather dilapidated hair mattress which the 
Germans, formerly proprietors of the trench, 

22 



DESCRIPTION OF THE TRENCH 

brought over from the village of Perthes. A 
set of shelves made of three boards has on it 
some old tin cans, along with the things I have 
taken out of my haversack. Two or three pegs 
stuck in the dirt wall serve as clothes hooks. 
The furnishing is completed by a wooden stool 
brought from the village, and by a brazier in 
which charcoal is burning. In one corner are 
some trench rockets and a large case of 
cartridges. 

This domicile is not at all bad; it is ahnost 
luxurious. The dug-outs of my soldiers are 
large undergrounds holding fifteen men very 
comfortably. Straw helps ward off the damp- 
ness of the soil of Champagne and discarded 
bayonets stuck in the walls serve as hooks 
for canteens and haversacks. Meanwhile, as 
the cold was a bit sharp, I had som_e braziers 
made for the men by piercing holes in old tin 
cans with bayonets. Charcoal was brought 
up from the kitchens. 

So life was sufficiently endurable. We felt 
pretty secure. The loopholes were well pro- 
tected, and one could fire comfortably. The 
machine guns were always in readiness, and in 
short, the Germans over opposite did not seem 
23 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

malicious. All that could be seen of them 
were white streaks across the land, many and 
intertwined, with wire entanglements along- 
side. That was all — nothing that budged or 
had the least human semblance, only here and 
there a sort of ragged, bluish heap that seemed 
a part of the earth on which it lay — a corpse. 
There were not many dead directly in front 
of us, but to the west, on our left, much higher 
up, in front of the skeleton remnant of a 
wood, lay a number of those motionless bun- 
dles, bearing witness to recent attacks. 

Thus the region opposite us was fairly unin- 
teresting — barbed wire, torn-up earth, skele- 
ton trees, and dead men's bodies. And the 
enemy was there at one hundred and fifty 
metres. I discovered this rather promptly, 
moreover, and had a narrow escape. At a 
given moment, very early in the morning, I 
went into the communication trench that 
formed the eastern end of my trench. There 
was a large, hollowed-out place through which 
one could get a better view of what lay in 
front of us: at the left, the ruined village; in 
front, the labyrinth of trenches and the skele- 
ton wood. Suddenly, as if warned by some 

24. 



LIFE IN THE FIRST LINE 

instinct, I turned away a little. Five or six 
bullets, undoubtedly intended for me, whis- 
tled through my window, one of them grazing 
my field-glass. Not a little shaken up, I left 
that dangerous spot. I soon began to laugh, 
however, and I should have enjoyed telling 
my neighbors the Boches that they had missed 
me. But I was more prudent after that. 

Besides, everything was silent except for an 
occasional shell that passed high above our 
heads and burst so far away that we could not 
hear it explode. Listening-patrols, being use- 
less during the day, were replaced by two sen- 
tries for each half -section who watched through 
the loopholes of the trench itself. The men in 
their warm dug-outs smoked their pipes, ate, 
read, or played cards. If this is war, thought 
many of them, it is n't half bad. 

But, like most good things, it did not last. 
At nine o'clock a messenger came to tell me 
that the captain wanted to see me. I went to 
his headquarters, situated in the second line. 
Orders had just come. A French attack was to 
be delivered on the Boche trenches to the 
north and east of Perthes. The object to be 
gained was as follows: The firing line was far 
25 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

from being straight; as a result of the vicissi- 
tudes of the recent fighting, the German 
trenches made a salient into the French 
trenches; it was desirable to destroy this 
salient. 

To attack at the point where we were would 
have been costly, for the distance between the 
two opposing lines was more than one hundred 
and fifty metres. The plan was, therefore, to 
attack at two other points, so that, once hav- 
ing taken the German trenches there, the 
whole system could be enfiladed. Our role was 
to put them on the wrong scent, and at a 
specified time to make as much noise as pos- 
sible with our muskets and machine guns, in 
order to attract attention to ourselves at the 
moment when the main attack was being 
launched elsewhere. 

So I went back to my trench and gave the 
men the necessary instructions. About ten 
o'clock we were startled by four loud reports 
coming almost simultaneously. It was a bat- 
tery of 75's, placed two hundred metres or so 
behind us. At the same instant the shells 
went whistling over our heads and raised four 
black clouds in the trench opposite. It was the 
26 



BOMBARDMENT, GERMAN ATTACK 

beginning of the bombardment. It was very 
violent. At the start we all ducked, but we 
gradually got used to it and learned to dis- 
tinguish the difference in sound of the French 
firing. Some of the shells went by at mad 
speed and burst almost at once. Others took 
their time, especially our Rimailles, nick- 
named the ''ox-cart," which seems to take an 
airing before going to tell its tale to the 
Germans, and its tale is generally a terrible 
one. 

Posted at a loophole, I watched through my 
glass the effect of the bombardment. All the 
German trenches, as far as the eye could 
reach, were filled with constantly recurring 
explosions. They looked like an uninterrupted 
line of volcanoes. The noise and the superb 
masses of earth thrown up into the air fairly 
intoxicated me. The Boches in their turn be- 
gan to answer, and scorning us poor infantry- 
men, sent their shells far in our rear in quest of 
the gunners and their guns. The chorus grew 
deafening. The sensation was that of being 
under a roof of steel, invisible but with the 
voices of all the fiends. And in the midst of all 
this din, two larks kept flitting about joyously, 
27 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

and mingled their song of life with the dull 
chant of the engines of death. 

New orders came, and I sent for my two 
sergeants and four corporals. We were ordered 
to fire during exactly four minutes, from one 
minute past twelve to five minutes past 
twelve. A supply of cartridges was placed be- 
side each loophole, so that every soldier could 
fire the greatest possible number of shots in 
the given time. All guns were inspected. 

The bombardment was growing more in- 
tense, and it was no longer possible to distin- 
guish the shots from each other. It w^as one 
uninterrupted boom, the efiiciency fire that 
the Germans call ^^ Trommeljaren,''^ or 'drum- 
fire." For half an hour the uproar was enough 
to drive one mad; my head felt as if it were 
bound with iron and about to burst; and yet, 
in the midst of it all, it was a great satisfaction 
to think that the Boches were having to en- 
dure, in addition to the noise, the very deadly 
effects of our artillery. We were unquestion- 
ably better off than they. 

At ten minutes to twelve every one was at 
his post, and I also took my place with the 
second half -section. I had carefully set my 
28 



BOMBARDMENT, GERMAN ATTACK 

watch according to the time that is telephoned 
every day at noon and midnight to the various 
officers' headquarters. At one minute past 
twelve the artillery lengthened its range. This 
was the moment, and I whistled. Immediately 
the guns began their clatter and the machine 
guns their regular chop. At twelve-five an- 
other whistle. "Cease firing. '^ 

I had no sooner whistled the second time 
than half a dozen Boche 77's fell very near our 
trench. As there was nothing more to be done, 
every one except the sentries went into the 
dug-outs. We were hotly bombarded, for the 
first six shells were followed by others and still 
others. This was not altogether according to 
our programme and the surprise was a trifle 
disagreeable. We had of a certainty fulfilled 
our mission, for we had drawn both their atten- 
tion and their fire. During two hours we were 
deluged with shells; every shell seemed to be 
coming straight at us, and in spite of ourselves 
we shrank together and ducked, measuring 
anxiously with our eyes the depth of the dug- 
out. Mine was fairly safe. I stayed in it some 
time with my sergeants, and we were none of 
us very happy. To tell the truth, the situation 
29 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

is a stupid one. The role one plays is purely 
passive, and it is not pleasant for a reasoning 
human being to sit by helplessly and feel 
coming toward him a mass of brutish matter 
capable of annihilating him. Several shells fell 
near my dug-out. One even landed in the little 
winding trench that led to it, but the splinters 
were stopped by its turns. Otherwise, they 
would have made me a visit. 

But I could not desert my men entirely, so I 
went around to the various dug-outs. Sitting 
huddled together my soldiers were not any 
more used to this kind of entertainment than 
I was, and would doubtless have preferred to 
be somewhere else; but no one was hurt, and 
they were glad to see me. On coming in con- 
tact with them I resumed my role of chief, 
and, true to the theory of William James, by 
pretending not to be afraid, I very soon dis- 
covered that I was not afraid. I chatted with 
them and cracked jokes, and all of a sudden, 
everybody felt better. Then I went back to 
my own quarters and made some tea on my 
brazier. 

Shells were still raining down, but as none of 
them had done any harm up to that time, we 

30 



BOMBARDMENT, GERMAN ATTACK 

bothered no more about them. They fell more 
especially in front of the trench, in the wire 
entanglement. That set me to thinking, and 
together with the machine-gun lieutenant I 
examined the situation. The Boches had bat- 
tered down the parapet in several places, and 
the barbed wire was pretty badly damaged. 
Were they going to amuse themselves by 
attacking us? I doubled the sentries and gave 
orders that as soon as the bombardment 
slackened every man should run to his loop- 
hole. I wondered what was up, as I did not 
know the result of the flank attack. I had no 
sooner sent word to the captain and the sec- 
tion commanders on either side than I saw 
through my glass points of bayonets here and 
there gleaming in the sun above the edge of 
the enemy's trench opposite. *' Every man at 
the loopholes," I shouted, and in the midst of 
the downpour of shells every one ran to his post. 
Several of the men were covered with dirt by 
explosions, one even was knocked down by 
the impact of a bursting shell, but no one 
was hit. 

Suddenly from the German trenches, like 
devils from their boxes, emerged the infantry- 

31 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

men, yelling and running toward us waving 
their arms. They were in close formation, 
three deep, I think, so that nothing could be 
easier than to mow them down. I quickly 
seized a gun and fired with the rest. The 
machine guns started in immediately, and 
hardly more than a minute later our assailants 
took to flight, leaving many of their men on 
the ground. At fifty metres from us, forty or 
more Boches were lying flat on their faces as if 
waiting for the order to stand up. The machine 
gun had done its work well. So the assault was 
beaten back, but every one remained at his 
post. Wounded men dragged themselves pain- 
fully to their lines; others were groaning. No 
one thought for an instant of firing at them. 
Then, when the danger was over, came a wave 
of emotion. I was frightened, but the joy of 
having escaped a real danger made me very 
happy. *^Now you're real poilusT^ I cried to 
my men. Everybody lighted a good pipe and 
a bluish smoke mounted up to the God of 
Battles, like the incense of gratitude. 

When everything was quiet, I hurried to 
the captain to make my report; he was well 
pleased, congratulated me, and instructed me 
32 



BOMBARDMENT, GERMAN ATTACK 

to congratulate my men. Our baptism of fire 
had been thoroughly first-class, and we be- 
haved rather well. During all this bombard- 
ment, only three of the company were 
wounded. As for the French attack, it had 
succeeded in seizing the extreme northern 
point of the German line. 

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful. 
A few disgruntled shells came our way, but 
we had as an offset the thrilling sight of a 
splendid aeroplane reconnaissance. Six French 
'planes, in a half-circle, flew over the German 
trenches. From time to time one of them 
dropped a spurt of flame into the deepening 
twilight, a signal for the artillery. Shells flew 
around our war-birds like a multitude of snow- 
flakes that remained floating a long time in the 
calm air. But without paying the least atten- 
tion, the aviators continued their proud flight 
and it seemed to us poor buried infantrymen 
that they were bearing aloft all our pride as 
Frenchmen, all our will to conquer. We were 
enchanted, but at the same time a little 
moved. 

Then slowly night fell. The order came to 
detail two men from each squad to go with 
S3 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

tent sheets, under the conduct of the corporal 
on duty, to fetch rations from the kitchens. 

The trench was then organized for the night. 
Listening-patrols were posted out in front; it 
was decided that one squad from each half- 
section should watch at the loopholes in case 
of a return offensive of the enemy. About ten 
or eleven o'clock it was time to think of mend- 
ing the barbed wire. The fatigue brought a 
great quantity of the Brun networks which 
fold and unfold like an accordion. They are 
very complicated and are fastened into the 
ground with a sort of fork. I wanted to direct 
the work myself, so, accompanied by six men, 
I crawled twenty or thirty metres from the 
trench; the work went on without a word being 
uttered. The six rows of wire were placed one 
behind the other, and in front were fixed 
strong chevaux-de-frise. We were then in the 
midst of ^'No-Man's Land" near the German 
corpses. We heard the groans of the wounded 
and some little moving about, which indicated 
that the Germans were coming to pick up their 
men. But we did not make any attempt to 
molest them, whereas soldiers who are old in 
the knowledge of this war tell me that German 
34 



BOMBARDMENT, GERMAN ATTACK 

snipers are always trying to put a stop to the 
work of the stretcher-bearers. 

When we got back, we were rewarded by 
supper, consisting of sardines, roast meat, and 
rice, which we warmed on the braziers. After 
the meal I took a little rest. My two sergeants 
divided the rest of the night, and it was solid 
comfort to go to sleep snugly wrapped in my 
blanket, with my feet against the warm bra- 
zier. My revolver was rather uncomfortable, 
but it is against the rules in the first lines to 
disarm. At four in the morning every one was 
up. Coffee arrived, ever welcome. The day 
was quiet; the Germans did not attack, but 
their positions were favored with a plentiful 
bombardment. As for us, we were let quite 
alone and could sleep to our hearts' content. 

The only real hardship was in not being 
able to wash; we were very muddy and dirty, 
and besides, a morning without a splash of 
cold water is flat and savorless; one doesn't 
feel really waked up. But we will get used to 
little things like this, I suppose. 

This afternoon, everything being quiet, I 
invited the neighboring section commander 
to come and spend a little time with me. In 
35 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

the trenches we rarely have anything to drink 
but wine and coffee, and by way of a special 
feast I decided to make some chocolate. So 
I sent for a canteen of water, and poured some 
of the precious fluid into my pan and devoutly 
emptied in the chocolate and sugar. It was 
simmering gently on my brazier, and I was 
just on the point of adding condensed milk, 
when some one called me from the outside. 
It was my orderly coming to see if I needed 
anything. I invited him to join us, but at that 
precise instant the stupid battery of a 77 be- 
gan to spit its six shells at us. Two burst so 
near that my faithful tampon stumbled in 
fright and fell headlong, taking with him 
brazier, saucepan, and chocolate, — our choc- 
olate so nearly ready which our eyes were 
drinking so hungrily. The poor chap was 
most unhappy, so I laughed, but I must con- 
fess my laugh was a bit sickly. At that mo- 
ment I detested the Germans worse than ever. 
It still gets dark early; my supply of candles 
was getting exhausted, and I wanted to save 
my electric lamp. And yet, I needed a light. 
Then I remembered we were to have sardines 
for supper and the idea occurred to me to 

36 



BOMBARDMENT, GERMAN ATTACK 

requisition the oil and pour it in an old corned- 
beef tin. I cut a round of cork, put a string 
through it dipped in oil, lighted it and behold, 
I had a night lamp like the ones that burn in 
churches. The flame was a trifle ill-smelling 
and rather yellow, but sufficient. I also told 
the cook to save me some mutton tallow. I 
melted it on my brazier in a tin can, stuck in 
a string, and this primitive candle burned 
very well. I gave the secret to my poilus. 

An exciting thing happened last night. It 
had been snowing, and toward one in the 
morning when I was chatting with the 
machine gunner, the sentry outside began to 
fire. At the same moment a voice rang out in 
the night, ^'Kamerad! Kamerad!" I quickly 
sent up a trench rocket, and the light showed 
me a German soldier crawling toward us with 
a great clatter of tinware. I cried to the sentry 
to let him alone, and called to the man him- 
self in German to come on. He appeared on 
the parapet and jumped into the trench. I 
had him taken to my headquarters and there, 
revolver in hand, ordered him to disarm. He 
had no weapons but his bayonet and a belt 
full of cartridges, but he was loaded down 
37 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

with canteens. I questioned him in German. 
He was a great big Bavarian who had got his 
fill of the war. To-day's bombardment — 
absolutely terrible, he said — had determined 
him to flee. He managed to be detailed for 
water fatigue, then made his way to our lines. 
He had had nothing to eat, for our bombard- 
ment made it impossible to bring up food. 
I gave him some bread and chocolate while 
waiting for supper to arrive. I kept him until 
morning in order to ask him certain questions, 
especially as to the effect of our artillery on 
the trenches opposite. He told me that the 
attack of the day before had cost them many 
men, and, furthermore, pointed out without 
much urging the position of their machine 
guns and also of a certain little revolver can- 
non that greatly annoyed us. This informa- 
tion was communicated to the artillery and 
since then the revolver cannon is silent. I kept 
the man's cartridge belt and canteens, rather 
good ones, and distributed them among my 
men. In the morning our Boche was sent to 
the commander. A happy man was he to 
have said good-bye to war. 
A little later my section went to the second 
38 



BOMBARDMENT, GERMAN ATTACK 

lines, into the dug-outs. Of the four sections 
of the company only three are in the first line, 
one being held in reserve for reinforcements. 
Each day we change and now it was my turn. 
Nothing to do. Deep dug-outs. That is where 
I have been writing all this long account in 
my notebook. 

February 28. This morning I was able to 
wash in the snow. It is good to be clean, and I 
feel very fit. 

The end of the day yesterday was not quiet; 
at four o'clock a note informed us that a Ger- 
man counter-attack was imminent. Vigilance 
and coolness were urged; our positions must 
be held at any cost. In case of attack, the 
reserve section — mine, therefore — was to go 
to the first line to strengthen the points at- 
tacked. I went to make sure of my fighting 
post and then took my men there, so that 
there would be no confusion in case we were 
needed. 

The counter-attack did not come; we were 
heavily bombarded, but fortunately we were 
well sheltered and none of my men were hit; 
what is more, we hardly noticed the shells. 

39 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

The announcement came that we were to be 
relieved at 2 a.m. — joyful news. Say what 
you will, we have been through a good deal of 
bodily and mental strain and we have not had 
much sleep. Meanwhile my section is ordered 
to clean the snow out of the communication 
trenches. And then we shall return to the 
rear! 



CHAPTER IV 

RECUPERATING — LIFE IN CANTONMENT AND IN 
CAMP 

March 3. Great disappointment on reaching 
our cantonment. No letters! And yet it is 
thirty days since I came away. We are still 
at S. S. in the same quarters, except that I 
share a room with my friend Henry; the men 
are well fixed and have plenty of straw. I 
am glad to possess a sort of home. 

We were relieved at 2 a.m. The march in 
the snow was long and difficult. At Hurlus 
the battalion was re-formed and the roll was 
called near a wood where there was a giant 
masked battery — four cannons of 220 milli- 
metres rose formidably under their veil of 
foliage. The casualties proved to be slight, 
perhaps twenty men in all. In my section 
every one was present. 

Then began the march through the snow. 
We were all so tired out by it following upon 
the days in the trenches that the minute we 
arrived and got rid of our equipment, we threw 
ourselves down and went to sleep. 
41 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

I woke up at nine, had a bath and a change 
of linen, and feeling greatly refreshed, turned 
my attention to my men. The morning was 
left free and many of them slept right through. 
The afternoon was devoted to cleaning cloth- 
ing and arms, and every one had a bath. 

I explored the village a little and found the 
traffic at the station particularly interesting. 
I chatted with several staff officers; they gave 
me very little information, but one of them 
handed me a copy of the "Matin" which I 
read eagerly. 

But I am still tired and sleepy and I am 
cross at not having any letters. It seems to 
me it would have made up for all our hard 
work of the last few days. 

March 4. This morning reveille at eight; 
review of arms and clothing — a formality 
quickly gone through, for the men understand 
that their gun is their best friend and they 
take great care of it. And in spite of certain 
accounts in the papers, the soldier is not fond 
of being dirty. He does not revel in his mud 
and filth, but suffers from it. Some of this 
misapprehension is probably due to the false 
42 



RECUPERATING 

derivation credited to the word poilu. It is 
not derived from the fact that the soldier is 
hirsute and unshaven. It is an old word. 
Under the First Empire they were the gren- 
adiers with their bearskin bonnets, Napoleon's 
best troops. They called hrave a trois polls 
any one who was worthy to be a grenadier. 
To-day the word poilu means simply a good 
soldier. 

Our officers' mess is very well set up. We 
are going to have a special fund for extras dur- 
ing recuperation. The cook is nothing short 
of a blessing. 

At last this afternoon the baggage-master 
announced that our communications with the 
rear were open. He brought us a quantity of 
letters; I had for my share thirty-two. ''Joy, 
joy, tears of joy," as Pascal said under slightly 
different circumstances. 

I passed the evening with the interpreting 
officer, to whom I introduced myself, offering 
my services if he needed any help in translat- 
ing documents. He was most friendly, gave 
me champagne, and showed me German let- 
ters and notebooks. They spoke volumes as 
to the state of their morale. 
43 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

To-morrow we go camping in a little woods 
near La Cheppe. The snow has melted, the 
weather is fine, almost spring-like. 

March 6. In camp. The whole regiment, 
battaHon by battalion, is gathered together 
in this woods. We marched to the music of 
the band, flag flying, into the village of B.-le- 
Chateau and reached this wood about four. 
Signboards on trees indicated the places of 
the companies. The companies were disposed 
in a deployed Hne, the sections being side by 
side, and in this way the ground they were to 
occupy was marked out. The squads of my 
section took their places and began to raise 
their tents in groups of six. Each soldier car- 
ries above his knapsack a waterproof tent 
sheet in which he wraps his blanket; four of 
these sheets make the tent proper, while the 
other two are used to close the openings at 
each end. Mine I shared with my sergeants 
and my orderly. Straw was given to us and 
the whole thing was perfect. 

We had an absolute rest; nothing to do but 
breathe in the air filled with the fragrance of 
the pines, to take walks or go hunting. There 
44 



CANTONMENT AND CAMP 

are quantities of rabbits all about, and the men 
got up battues which wonderfully improve 
the army fare. The company mustered once 
a day, simply for roll-call and to hear orders 
read. But we were forbidden to go very far 
away, so as to be ready in case of an alarm. 
The regimental band rehearsing its pieces 
gave us pleasant concerts. To be sure, the 
repertory is not remarkably choice, but selec- 
tions from well-known operas, polkas of Offen- 
bach, and flute solos give a great deal of pleas- 
ure in this rough life. But some of the military 
marches are really beautiful, ''Sambre and 
Meuse," for example, when the whole band 
and the bugler play it together. ■, 

It is full of charm, this open-air life in the 
country; in the evening, when it is cold, we 
make big fires and sit around them, smoking 
and chatting happily. Our morale is excellent; 
wine brought from the village, repose, the 
crackHng fire, and the knowledge of duty well 
done — much there is to make the heart gay. 
I have written a great many letters. I had so 
many to answer. And I have read anew my 
''Don Quixote" with delight. 



45 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

March 7. Sunday. Mass at La Cheppe, the 
village where we were first quartered; a little 
church full of soldiers, a few peasant women in 
black, a very old priest who spoke with sub- 
lime simplicity of the dead. I went to call on 
my former hosts, who were delighted to see 
me again. The rain made me hurry back, for 
the roads were already beginning to be heavy. 
I had to cut across lots, and even then my 
shoes were weighed down with mud. The rest 
of the time I spent in our tent chatting, read- 
ing, and smoking. 

March 8. We start for the firing line again 
this evening. Farewell tranquillity and the 
rustic life. But we go back willingly. It seems 
that the sector is no longer the same. The 
order of the day informs us that recent attacks 
made it possible to take the whole system of 
German defenses in front of our former trench, 
which is now the third or fourth line. We are 
to occupy positions newly acquired. 

Evening. We are making a halt for the night. 
It is impossible to make at one stretch the 
whole trip to the first lines in this mud. We 
46 



CANTONMENT AND CAMP 

started shortly after noon and marched the 
rest of the day in a heavy, sticky mud that is 
very exhausting. And the rain keeps falling, 
icy and monotonous. What will the trenches 
be like? 

We are billeted for the night in a kind of 
little village of huts made of earth and wood, 
completely hidden by the trees from prying 
cannon, and we are passably comfortable. I 
have for myself and my orderly a Httle shanty 
with a place to make a fire, and a comfortable 
bed of pine needles. The rain is pattering on 
the roof. To-morrow we return to the trenches. 
Cannon boom heavily. There must be fighting. 

March g. It is still raining; the soil is soaked. 
Our encampment is called " Cabane-Puits " 
because in time of peace it used to contain a 
well and a cabin. The latter is now inhabited 
by our brigadier-general. As for the well, it 
has been put in order by the engineers and 
furnishes water to a very large section; water 
fatigues are endlessly standing in line to ob- 
tain the precious fluid, which trickles in rather 
a tiny stream. 

There is a big supply station here. The little 
47 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

railroad that starts from S. S. ends in the 
upper part of this wood, and huge sheds have 
been built, carefully hidden away under the 
foliage, in which are stored all sorts of supplies 
— wine, canned goods, bread, meat, straw — 
everything, in short, that is needed by the 
regiments of the brigade which occupies this 
sector. The traffic is very lively, and I watched 
the arrival of a train and the unloading and 
storing of the goods. I also saw a whole train- 
load of artillery ammunition, which is kept 
in very sheltered dug-outs. 

Eight or ten German machine guns, cap- 
tured in the recent combats, were on exhibi- 
tion. Our machine gunners are studying them, 
and I too examined their mechanism; it is 
well to know how to use the enemy's engines 
so as to be able, on occasion, to turn them the 
other way about. 

A hundred or more prisoners tramped by, 
looking haggard and dejected, both their faces 
and clothing disappearing under a mask of 
mud. So things are going our way. Several 
wounded went by also, some on foot, others 
drawn by stretcher-bearers on little vehicles 
with springs so arranged that the men are not 
48 



CANTONMENT AND CAMP 

made to suffer unduly from jolting over these 
churned-up roads. 

Evening. In a few hours we are going to the 
trenches. We are ordered to take light equip- 
ment ; knapsacks are to be left in undergrounds 
at Hill i8i, in care of the oldest man in each 
section. The trenches we are about to occupy 
are not luxurious, it seems, and the sacks 
would be in our way. We have been given 
a large supply of hand grenades. It is still 
raining. 



CHAPTER V 

MUD — CORPSES — TAKING A GERMAN TRENCH — 
IN THE SECOND LINE — RETURN TO THE FIRST 
LINE — PARADE MARCH BEFORE THE FLAG 

March 15. We returned yesterday to encamp- 
ment. During the last five days, the most ter- 
rible I have yet spent, I have not had a min- 
ute of physical or mental quiet to write a single 
line of my diary. I have run the gamut, I 
think, of nearly all the emotions afforded by 
war, — bombardment, attack, counter-attack, 
— all the while in a most precarious position, 
long painful marches through the communica- 
tion trenches, and above and over all, the mud, 
that terrible enemy, much more terrible than 
the Boches. For the Boches have their mo- 
ments of respite. The mud is there ever and 
always, implacable and relentless — the mud 
that keeps you from walking, chills you, 
clutches you, weighs you down, and drives 
you to despair. Five days of dragging one's 
self along more than knee deep in the horrible, 
cold, gluey paste. 

50 



MUD 

It began as soon as we left Cabane-Puits. 
But at first it was bearable. We slipped, or got 
stuck or splashed or splattered, but that was 
a mere nothing. The terrible part came when 
we went into the communication trenches. 
It was fortunate that our knapsacks were 
at Hill i8i and not on our backs. The chalk 
of Champagne when combined with water 
rapidly forms a soft paste in which one plunges 
nearly up to the waist. And it was necessary 
to march in this; in other words, to put one 
foot before the other, to pull it out wit' enor- 
mous effort only to replunge it in the mire; 
and so on for five kilometres. At the start, 
the effort was a conscious one, but at the end 
of the first hour the motions became auto- 
matic; all one's sensations resolved themselves 
into one dull pain in the whole body. Several 
times I got my leg stuck, and had to appeal to 
the man behind me to help get it out. One of 
the Heu tenants left his shoe in the mud; he was 
literally caught like a lark on a lime-twig, and 
when, by dint of desperate efforts, he brought 
forth his shoeless foot, a great laugh went 
round. But a little farther on we were sobered 
by a terrible discovery. We found the body 
SI 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

of a soldier who had perished in the mud; he 
had evidently fallen while alone and was un- 
able to extricate himself from the horrible 
embrace of the mire. This was the first corpse 
I had seen and I was much affected. 

And then the tiniest of obstacles interrupted 
the march and upset the distances — a tele- 
phone wire getting loose from a crumbling 
wall, a soldier who was stuck, a fatigue com- 
ing in the opposite direction; those ahead 
would have to stop and the ones behind 
struggle to march at the double to catch up 
with them. A regular march was impossible. 

At the end of three hours we reached the 
village of Perthes, or rather, the ruins of 
Perthes, melancholy wraith of a village, a few 
dismantled walls, barns that looked as if they 
lay in the path of an avalanche, and a church 
by some miracle still standing, though all 
ruinous. Just at that moment we were obliged 
to halt in the communication trench. The 
Boches were firing shrapnel. We huddled 
against the bank. I was so tired that I slept 
a few minutes standing up leaning on my 
stick. The sensation that people were moving 
awoke me, and once more began that slow, 
52 



CORPSES 

automatic, painful advance. A cold rain was 
falling, which in spite of my mackintosh 
trickled down my neck to my chest. Occa- 
sional spent bullets went grunting over our 
heads. Each moment seemed eternal. 

Day broke, still overcast. We had been on 
the march more than four hours. Several 
shells burst near by. One man had his head 
blown open, and remained standing. It was 
necessary to push this ghastly thing against 
the wall of the trench and nearly climb over it. 

At last, after a long time, we stopped. I 
went with the guide to inspect my new quar- 
ters. The trench was an abomination — a 
charnel house — with dead piled upon dead, 
on the ground where you walked, above the 
parapets, in the walls of the trench half buried, 
with either their heads sticking out or their 
feet or their hands or their knees. We were in 
a communication trench that had just been 
seized and hastily repaired to make it tenable. 
I was horribly agitated, but I managed to lis- 
ten to the explanations of the officer I was 
replacing. We should have to use the greatest 
care. The trench was caught in an enfilade. 
Alas, our predecessors had not had a very gay 
53 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

time. They lost more than twenty killed or 
wounded. A pleasant prospect, truly. I went 
to get my men, and told them beforehand 
what to expect, so that they might be spared 
the worst of the shock I had had. It was not 
very cheering, the sight of all these dead, but 
our sufferings in the mud had dulled our sensi- 
bilities. 

My trench, then, formed a point in the 
German trench. It was one of their communi- 
cation trenches that we had not succeeded in 
seizing clear to the end. The general system 
of our company was in the form of a letter 

At the end nearest the Germans, the trench 
that I was in was closed by a cave-in of earth. 
In front of us, the rest of the communication 
trench was empty up to the German trench 
running at right angles to our sector, and 
situated only about twenty or twenty-five 
metres beyond. At the end of the trench was 
the listening-post, and a machine gun kept 
the Germans out of the vacant trench. Very 
likely their machine guns also were ready to 
pepper us if we made the least move in their 
direction. Thus the situation was far from 
54 



CORPSES 

being amusing. We were caught in an enfilade, 
and all day long grenades, bullets, shells, and 
mines assailed our position. Something must 
be done. Two sentries were killed at their post, 
so I decided to use a periscope. Three in suc- 
cession were shattered by bullets. The prob- 
lem was a hard one. I changed the arrange- 
ment of the sentry loopholes, making them as 
small as possible. I took my place there my- 
self for a few minutes; somewhat reassured, 
my sentries remained on duty without flinch- 
ing, beside the bodies of their dead comrades, 
both of whom had been shot through the eye. 
The Germans have gun supports to which they 
fasten their guns and aim them at a loophole 
with the aid of a field-glass. After that, they 
have nothing to do but fire. Every shot goes 
home. But we managed to find a remedy for 
this difficulty. 

There are no dug-outs, of course, and no 
possibility of digging any in this earth that 
crumbles at each stroke of the spade. I took 
my place nearly in the middle of the trench, 
on what looked like a seat that some ingenious 
soldier had dug in the wall. As it was rather 
high, I asked my orderly to dig down a little 

55 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

so that I could sit more comfortably. Several 
strokes of the pick brought to light the cloth 
of a uniform. I was sitting in the lap of a 
corpse. I went and took up my domicile a 
little farther on. The explosion of a shell 
knocked down some of the earth of the wall 
opposite, and in the breach appeared the 
green and earthy head of a corpse. From that 
moment, this head was my vis-a-vis, and once 
the first shudder of disgust had passed, I 
thought no more about it. 

In the end, one gets used to living beside 
corpses, or Maccabees as we call them. They 
not only cease to make us uncomfortable, but 
they even make us laugh. Beyond the parapet 
there were two or three corpses, in the drollest 
attitudes. One looked as if he were invoking 
Allah; another was in the midst of a back- 
somersault. One of my poilus hung his can- 
teen to a foot that was projecting over the 
wall; the others laughed and followed his 
example. The true French spirit was to the 
fore — an extreme adaptability, and above 
all, good humor. 

The odor of the corpses was nauseating, but 
pipes soon got the better of it. Meanwhile, 

56 



CORPSES 

shells and grenades kept pouring in on us. We 
were obliged to use the greatest care, and keep 
as near the side of the trench as possible. The 
shells were not very dangerous when they fell 
in the mud, for they either did not burst at all, 
or they exploded without much force, but 
when they went from one end of the trench to 
the other and landed farther on, they were 
indeed deadly. Toward noon a messenger 
came to bring orders from the captain. He 
was standing in front of me, halfway up to 
his waist in mud. Suddenly he was without a 
head; he tottered, but did not fall; two streams 
of blood spurted violently from the headless 
body and bespattered me. It is hard some- 
times not to have the right to show feeling; 
my men were all around me and I did not 
want them to see me blanch. I simply told 
them to cover his body with a tent-sheet that 
was lying near, and sent word to the captain. 
These various shocks hardened me. After 
that, I was more or less indifferent to the terri- 
ble things that happened. I even ate with 
good relish in the company of the head that 
was sticking out of the trench. The day passed 
slowly, full of the anguish of explosions, to 
57 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

say nothing of the pain of every movement 
and the cold that came from sitting motion- 
less in this prolonged foot-bath. 

Night fell early. Then came orders. In the 
darkness a trench was to be dug, joining the 
two ends of our position. The men were to 
start at the same time from the two communi- 
cation trenches and meet before daybreak. 
The digging was done from the trench itself, 
working forward as the new trench advanced. 
Several times corpses were turned up; the 
place was a regular cemetery. The work went 
on rapidly. The trench was to be only a metre 
deep and the earth was very easy to dig. But 
the Boches threw hand grenades, and I re- 
ceived for my share a splinter near my right 
eye. I stopped the bleeding and remained at 
my post. At three in the morning the crews 
met. 

Rations arrived in very bad shape. The 
cooks had to make the same long trip through 
the mire that had cost us so many efforts. So 
they brought us the coffee cold, meat all cov- 
ered with mud, and vegetables that had to be 
thrown away. The wine alone arrived intact. 
Instead of its being brought in pails, I had 
S8 



CORPSES 

taken the precaution to have it put in tightly 
stoppered canteens, the same ones the Boche 
was carrying when he crawled up and sur- 
rendered. Although the fatigues had slipped 
down several times or been knocked down by 
the impact of shells, the pinard arrived un- 
touched, to our very great joy. Fortunately, 
everyone was well supplied with canned goods. 

In the morning, although we were exhausted 
by a sleepless night in addition to the strain 
of all our other hardships, the order came to 
attack. There was a good deal of grumbling, 
but I emphasized to my men that if our situa- 
tion was pitiable, the thing to do was to im- 
prove it. It was to the interest of all of us to go 
across the way, where we should certainly be 
more comfortable; and the attack would not 
be dangerous. We should dash to the assault 
from the trench dug the night before, at a mo- 
ment when the Boches did not expect it, and 
there would be so little ground to cover that 
the risk would not be great. Besides, it was 
our duty, and I was certain my poilus would 
keep the promise they had made me to follow 
wherever I led. 

At two o'clock the whole company was to 

59 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

take its place in the new trench; at 2.10 we 
were to make the attack. However, things did 
not happen according to schedule, and the 
Germans gave us the opportunity to take their 
trench almost without any losses on our own 
side, but with many losses on theirs. 

Toward eleven o'clock, when our bombard- 
ment had only just begun, our machine guns 
began to clatter and Hkewise all the guns at 
the loopholes. The Boches were attacking! 
They had a hankering after the trench we had 
dug during the night, and wanted to launch 
an assault on our lines from that point — the 
exact thing that we were planning to do to 
theirs. They came on in full force, but there 
was time for the machine guns to mow down 
numbers of them before the first ones reached 
the new trench. The mud kept them back, 
and the poor wretches made a tragic struggle 
to get their feet loose and to hurry. Three suc- 
cessive waves started. The machine gun at 
the end of our trench was quickly shifted, and 
enfiladed our new trench full of Boches, kill- 
ing nearly all of them. It was horrible but 
magnificent. But others were coming on. 
Then I commanded, ''Fix bayonets ! Forward ! 
60 



TAKING A GERMAN TRENCH 

Forward!" and we dashed against the assail- 
ants. The whole company followed my exam- 
ple and rushed forward. Was it to be a hand- 
to-hand fight? Our murderous grenades 
crushed the first row, and in the face of our 
air of determination the others hesitated, then 
turned tail. We threw grenades at them and 
fired at close range. We kept sticking in the 
mud and stumbling over bodies, but the oppor- 
tunity was too good to be lost. We followed 
them home; their batteries and machine guns 
could not fire for fear of hitting their own men. 
They had no sooner reached their trenches 
than we were at their heels, stopping just long 
enough to shower in grenades before we jumped 
in after them. I had a feeling that some one 
was aiming at me and I emptied my revolver 
point-blank into the head of an Oherleutnant 
who was wearing a monocle. I did this auto- 
matically, by reflex action. I seized another 
enemy by the throat and struck him in the 
face with the butt of my revolver. He fell like 
lead. But the hand-to-hand fight did not last 
long. The forty soldiers who were left quickly 
surrendered. 

" Quick ! Quick ! " I commanded. " Reverse 
6i 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

the trench!" In other words, pierce several 
loopholes and turn the German machine guns 
against their own trenches. We stopped up 
the communication trench, and opened up the 
ones toward the rear, and the prisoners filed 
through my former trench, which was once 
more a communication. We then prepared to 
ward off the counter-attack. Barbed wire was 
brought and securely fastened. The Germans 
proceeded to treat us to reprisal fire, which 
damaged our newly conquered trench rather 
badly, but did little real harm. 

I lost nine men in all, four killed and five 
wounded. The Germans had been neatly out- 
witted. By quarter-past eleven we were estab- 
lished in our new positions. These events had 
lasted but a very few minutes — the hand-to- 
hand fight just long enough to let me kill two 
Germans. 

Nevertheless, the situation was none too 
cheerful. German corpses were all about. Our 
grenades had done their work well, and any 
wounded were drowned in the mud as they 
fell. As we walked, the bodies sank in deeper, 
for the bottom of the trench was literally 
covered with them, forming a sort of carpet 
62 



TAKING A GERMAN TRENCH 

under our feet. In spite of it we were radi- 
ant. The commander expressed his satisfac- 
tion. The counter-attack might come at any 
moment, but we were ready for anything; as 
for shells, we laughed at them. Every one 
gathered trophies. I carried off the revolver 
and field-glass of my Oberleutnant, also his 
notebook, which I proposed to decipher and 
hand over to the staff officers. 

Night fell gradually. The air was very 
sharp, and it began to rain again. We all 
looked like Capuchin friars with our blankets 
wrapped around us and our tent-sheets over 
our heads. No one could sleep, or rather, no 
one was allowed to sleep; but as I made my 
way with great difficulty back and forth in 
the trench, I saw several men asleep, holding 
their guns at the loopholes. In order to keep 
them awake I made them fire salutes. The 
bombardment was intense all night, but it 
was directed more especially against our sec- 
ond lines. That augured a counter-attack for 
the next day. At midnight word was sent 
that we should be reHeved at 2 a.m. Great 
rejoicing. At last we should be able to get 
some sleep! Quickly we folded blankets and 

63 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

tent-sheets, but we had a long wait in the 
rain that was falling and under the shells 
that were dropping. 

It was not until daybreak that the others 
came to relieve us. And then began anew the 
fight with the mud. It took us nearly two 
hours to reach Perthes. There we learned that 
we were not to be sent to recuperate, but were 
to reinforce the third line in the fortified dug- 
outs of Hill 200. Then we left the communi- 
cation trenches, for they were in too bad a 
state, and walked in the road, almost in the 
open. A rather high parapet protected us from 
bullets and from being seen by the Germans, 
who were about a kilometre to the north. But 
we had to march bent double, alternately 
making rapid leaps and stopping. Of course, 
a few bullets came our way, but the Boches 
did not see us and we were not molested. 
Once when we stopped, I saw stretched out 
in the road beside me a dead soldier, with his 
pipe still in his mouth. Evidently, he had not 
suffered much. 

After five hundred metres on the road we 
had to go into the communication trench 
again; that is to say, begin to flounder through 
64 



TAKING A GERMAN TRENCH 

the mire. A big German shell had fallen into 
the trench without bursting, and we were 
obliged to climb over it. Dangerous engines 
those, that a mere trifle may cause to explode. 
I wonder now how we managed to keep going 
for another hour, for it seemed at every step 
that we should sink in our tracks. It had been 
impossible to send up rations, and we had 
nothing to drink. Some of the men suffered 
so from thirst that they scooped up in their 
hands the muddy water that was lying stag- 
nant in the trench and quaffed it with delight. 
I had a flask of mint and I drank a swallow 
that refreshed me greatly. We were so tired 
at the last that we could neither see nor feel, 
but stumbled on with our eyes shut, some of 
the men asleep as they went. At last we 
arrived. 

These dug-outs were a sort of cave made in 
the side of the hill, large galleries well propped 
up with planks with the entrance carefully 
protected by a regular rampart of bags of 
sand. The minute we arrived we threw our- 
selves down and slept and slept, in spite of the 
big German shells that were bursting with a 
frightful hubbub, and in spite of a French 
65 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

battery concealed near by that kept up an 
incessant fire, and in spite of our consuming 
thirst. We did n't wake up until the commis- 
sary arrived, bringing letters and rations. 
Everybody demanded the letters first. We 
were in such sore need of a few words of en- 
dearment, much more so than of food ! I got 
for my share five letters which I read hun- 
grily. I also got a package of eggs my little 
godmother managed to send me from Lor- 
raine, and they were a wonderful feast, sweet 
as a caress of the one who sent them. 

Then we ate, and went to sleep again. We 
cannot be entirely brutish, since letters bring 
us such joy. We have killed men, under pen- 
alty of being killed ourselves, and also because 
it was our duty, but these combats took place 
in a sort of frenzy, the frenzy of action, of 
enthusiasm, and likewise of suffering. I have 
killed two Germans and I am proud of it, and 
yet, I have not the soul of an assassin. 

At eight in the evening the major received 
word that two companies were to be sent to 
the trenches. All the troops were jaded, all 
had labored long and hard ; we drew lots — 
Eleventh and Twelfth. So I had to set out 
66 



IN THE SECOND LINE 

again. I went to rouse my men. They grum- 
bled a little, but obeyed philosophically, 
buckling on their equipment and folding their 
blankets. At nine o'clock we set out to trav- 
erse in the opposite direction the ground we 
had come over in the morning: trench, road, 
trench, village, trench, mud, and again mud. 
It was impossible to maintain distances. One 
section got lost and had to turn back; then 
troops were met coming the other way, the 
ditch was narrow, and it was slow work 
squeezing through. 

Order was once more established as we came 
near our goal. The night was full of the uproar 
of a battle. Machine guns were emitting in 
the distance the regular cKck of a sewing- 
machine, while the little guns sounded like 
the sputtering of fish in a frying-pan. A few 
bullets whizzed by. I heard one of the men say, 
in his utter weariness, ''I hope one of those 
bullets is for me." I chided him mildly, but it 
was exhaustion that wrung this cry from him, 
for the day before at the moment of the attack 
he had fought with the bravest. 

We arrived at an empty second-line trench 
that we were to occupy, and defend in case of 
67 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

need. But it was very different from having 
the enemy right before us, and we could be 
comparatively tranquil. We went to sleep 
sitting in the mud, or in the dug-outs, where 
the brittle earth crumbled and fell in tiny 
frozen pellets. We slept the rest of the night 
and spent the following day almost without 
moving, wearily awaiting the moment to 
depart. We were disgustingly dirty, caked 
with mud from head to foot. We scraped the 
mud off our hands and faces with our knives; 
our hair was converted into a strange, un- 
familiar substance that looked as if it would 
withstand any process of cleaning. 

A few shells fell among us, and several of 
the men were wounded, but we were perfectly 
indifferent and did n't budge when the explo- 
sions came. The marmites were not honored 
by us with the slightest attention. Although 
we were physically tired, our morale was 
intact, and the men laughed and joked, every 
one recounting the deeds of prowess he had 
performed at the time of the attack. Who shall 
blame us if we were a Httle boastful? We were 
tasting the satisfaction of work well done. If 
the Boches had chosen that moment to attack 
68 



RETURN TO THE FIRST LINE 

us, they would have had a warm welcome. 
However, they did n't risk it. 

Toward eight in the evening orders came 
that we were to be relieved. They were 
greeted with a satisfaction not unmixed, for 
no one smiled as the prospect rose before him 
of the return trip through those communica- 
tion trenches. Slowly, with many difficulties, 
and at the cost of great efforts, we made our 
way once more through the mire. We were 
simple automatons with very little more 
notion of time and space than a pendulum on 
the end of its pivot. 

We reached Hill i8i and solid ground, solid 
except for big shell holes filled with water. 
A number of the men, blind with fatigue, 
fell into them and had to be pulled out with 
rifle butts. Shells were falling, so we changed 
into open formation to march the five hun- 
dred metres that separated us from the 
kitchens. Hot coffee awaited us there, but 
we could not stop long enough to drink it, as 
shells were coming down too fast. It was 
not until some distance farther on when the 
coffee was cold that we were able to refresh 
ourselves. The Germans were keeping up a 
69 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

continuous bombardment of Cabane-Puits, so 
that we could not stay there, but had to go to 
B.-le-Chateau, twelve kilometres beyond. 

The long column of the regiment wound 
through the plain four hours longer with nu- 
merous halts and untold weariness. The knap- 
sacks that we had picked up again dragged 
heavily on our shoulders. From time to time, 
exhausted men left the ranks and lay down in 
the road, falling asleep with their packs on 
their backs. We were very near the end of our 
tether when the cock on the steeple appeared 
at a turn of the road. A long halt was made 
here, and the stragglers had time to regain 
their places before we marched into the vil- 
lage. Was there such a thing as being able to 
shoulder arms and march at attention in our 
state of exhaustion? 

Yes indeed, and it was sublime. The colo- 
nel, before dismissing us to recuperate, 
wished to have us file before our flag, our be- 
loved flag, blackened and torn by battles. We 
had earned this honor, and it made us forget 
everything else. Every man of all the mud- 
smeared ranks felt that his very soul was 
wrapped in the glory of that sacred emblem 
70 



PARADE MARCH BEFORE THE FLAG 

for which he had suffered so much and so will- 
ingly. Now as a supreme reward, while we 
still bore upon us the marks of duty well done, 
we were to perform in the presence of the flag 
an immense and joyous act of faith in our 
native land. All the men felt the solemnity of 
the moment; and to the ringing notes of the 
farewell hymn that tells us to live and die for 
our Republic, these worn and footsore men, 
so covered with grime as to have scarcely a 
human semblance, defiled before the flag and 
presented arms as they never had presented 
them before. And when I saw my men stand 
up proud and straight to present arms, putting 
into this act all the little strength that was in 
them, and when it came my turn to salute our 
colors, I was so stirred that the tears rolled 
down my mud-stained cheeks. I am happy. 
I give thanks for all I have suffered, since it 
has won for me the joy of this moment. 



CHAPTER VI 

ENCAMPMENT — IN THE FOURTH LINE — FATIGUE 
DUTY — VISIT TO THE ARTILLERY 

And then we went off duty. I was determined 
to be clean before I went to bed. A soldier em- 
ployed at the bath-house was obliged to scrub 
me all over with a stiff brush. Not a spot on 
my body had escaped the treacherous mud. 
We had two days to rest and clean up and 
put our clothing and arms in order. The 
men were allowed entire freedom. 

My billet is comfortable. I even have a real 
bed — a bed with sheets — that I share with 
my friend H. Joy and delight to be able to 
take off one's clothes and crawl into bed be- 
tween sheets — a luxury we have not tasted 
for a month. And such a month! 

This morning there was drill. Not very 
interesting, but according to theory, the men 
must not be left idle. I suggested that we 
organize games and the idea was approved. 
Peace-time manoeuvres afford little amuse- 
ment to men who are just back from the 
trenches. 

72 



IN THE FOURTH LINE 

Our mess is very jolly. We officers get to- 
gether and chat, play cards or have music. 
I often go and play the httle organ in the 
church. A priest who is on the hospital nursing 
staff has asked me to play during services. I 
consented with great pleasure. There is a 
service every evening which many soldiers 
attend. They sing the hymns of the liturgy. 
I accompany and I amuse myself playing 
some fugue of Bach or of my beloved Cesar 
Franck. The organ is nothing to boast of, but 
I get a good deal of satisfaction out of it. 

March i8. We start to-night for Cabane- 
Puits which forms the fourth line of our posi- 
tions. We are not to go to the trenches, it 
seems, but will remain four or five days in 
reserve. Furthermore, we shall be assigned 
fatigue duty. My company is flag escort. 

Evening. We left B.-le-Chateau toward 
noon. The ceremony of departure was beauti- 
ful. The third battalion had the flag and my 
company was chosen to escort it. The bat- 
tahon formed in line of masses, my company 
being posted directly in front of the colonel's 
73 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

house. At noon, bayonets were fixed, and at 
the moment the flag appeared on the thresh- 
old the band and the buglers saluted and 
played the Marseillaise, while every man 
presented arms. We defiled through the vil- 
lage with the flag in the middle of the com- 
pany, just behind my section. Then the flag 
was folded into its black sheath, and we began 
the march. 

The road was better, much better. We met 
a regiment coming back from the trenches, 
and it made us realize what we ourselves had 
looked like a few days before. 

Cabane-Puits is very curious — a village of 
primitive tribesmen made up of half-buried 
huts of earth and branches. These dwelHngs 
are very comfortable, however, with their fire- 
places and thick beds of straw. There are also 
dug-outs for each section. For myself I have 
a private apartment which has been comfort- 
ably arranged by its various occupants. There 
is a bed made of woven wire hung like a ham- 
mock about twenty inches from the ground, a 
rough table, shelves, and a fireplace of big 
stones. The baggage- wagons of the regiment 
have come with us up to this point, so I have 
74 



IN THE FOURTH LINE 

my chest and can profit by my books. Rabe- 
lais and Montaigne have promptly been given 
the place of honor on the shelves. 

There is a shanty for everything here. The 
infirmary is very well installed; the offices of 
the various companies have packing-boxes for 
desks. The kitchens are in the open air. 
Above the fires, hanging on a stick, great ket- 
tles boil and bubble everlastingly. We had 
tea this evening, but sad to say, there was n't 
enough sugar. Letters come through with 
more or less regularity. I have made friends 
with the baggage-master, who scolds me all 
the time for being one of those who give him 
the most trouble; for I have a correspondence 
of almost ministerial dimensions. 

Take it all in all, this is better than the 
trenches. 

March ig. A delicious existence. Weather 
fine. Nothing to do. I read a little, write a 
little, chat a great deal with my friend H. or 
with the abbe-infirmier, a man of extraor- 
dinary intelHgence and a heart of gold. 
Last evening after going to bed, H. and I lay 
awake a long time and talked, with the splen- 
75 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

dor of the spring flooding in upon us. The 
cannon in the distance were raging, and in 
spite of ourselves we rejoiced in our compar- 
ative security. ''Suave mari magno."^ Per- 
haps Lucretius was not so far wrong. But this 
kind of selfishness is conceivable when one 
thinks of the sufferings of the week just past. 

March 20. A very busy night. My section 
was detailed to clean out the communication 
trenches near Perthes. The mud had dried 
and filled them in so that they were no longer 
deep enough. 

We started at 9 p.m. along Hill 181. At the 
entrance to the trenches, sheltered behind a 
hillock, are the headquarters of the com- 
mander of the sector, and likewise a tool- 
house. Picks and shovels were piled up wait- 
ing for us. We took an equal number of each 
alternately, and proceeded to the trenches. 
A guide showed us the way. They were in a 
very bad state from the point of view of pro- 
tection, but oh, so easy to walk in. The sector 

^ " Sweet it is when the winds are ruffling the mighty 
surface of the deep to witness the grievous peril of another 
from the shore." 

76 



IN THE FOURTH LINE 

we were to put in order was about two hun- 
dred metres long. With the aid of my sergeants 
and corporals, I measured off the exact space 
for each pair of men. Every one set to work 
with a will, and at the end of two hours the 
job was finished. Partly to keep warm and 
partly to set the example, I took a pick and 
worked here and there. We deepened and 
broadened the trench and put bomb-shields 
every twenty-five or thirty metres, so that a 
bursting shell could be effective only on a 
limited area. Moreover, the trench was wide 
at the bottom, and the walls were near enough 
at the top to give less purchase to shrapnel. I 
had the satisfaction of feeling that the work 
had been done rapidly and well. At i a.m. we 
arrived at quarters. I gave the men a swig 
of brandy to warm them up, and we all turned 
in. 

An enemy aviator was brought down this 
morning. He ventured near our lines and was 
subjected to a lively bombardment. Swarms 
of white tufts circled and unfolded around the 
'plane, which made a yellow spot in the lens of 
my field-glass. Suddenly I saw it dip, nose 
downward, and dart like an arrow to the 
77 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

ground. Meanwhile the smoke of the shell 
that had done the deed spread majestically 
through the sky as if content with its handi- 
work. The aviator fell too far away for us to 
go and see him. 

The Russians have taken Przemysl. The 
news was announced in this morning's bulle- 
tin. It seems the booty is enormous. To cele- 
brate the event every soldier has been given 
an extra ration of wine. 

It is one of the first bits of war news we have 
had. We are narrowed down to our own sec- 
tor, and know practically nothing of what is 
happening outside. Not much probably. But 
surely something will be doing before long 
now. Every one thinks the grand offensive 
will take place in the spring — the decisive 
blow that will pry the Germans out of their 
holes in the ground and bring us the fight in 
the open for which we are all longing. And 
then — victory! 

I find myself yielding to the charm of our 
life here. It is, indeed, the return to nature 
and simplicity; it is almost physical, almost 
animal. The primitive instincts of the race 
have full sway — eating — drinking — sleep- 
78 



IN THE FOURTH LINE 

ing — fighting — everything but loving. Lack- 
ing this, Rousseau would have found his idyl 
complete. But however much we are sunk in 
savagery, memory still is living. As well ask 
the spring not to be green as keep one's 
thoughts from wandering among cherished 
images, kept fresh by almost daily letters. 
Beloved little godmothers, precious are your 
letters and welcome your delicate gifts to those 
who fight. We are glad to fight for you. But 
at times, the thought of you makes the chains 
of war very hard to bear. 

However, I am determined not to let my 
mind grow rusty. I read a great deal, write 
quantities of letters, and I have two or three 
friends with whom I can converse intimately. 
What is more, I have a most interesting study 
in psychology always close at hand — the 
study of my poilus. I think I am beginning to 
know them better and to be their friend; they 
tell me their secrets and their adventures, 
their little family affairs and their love affairs. 
Some of them want me to read their letters, 
or show me photographs. All this makes it 
easier to approach each one of them in the 
right way to make him do his best. I have 
79 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

grown very fond of them, for they are fine fel- 
lows; they can even be heroes when duty 
requires. 

I passed the evening out of doors, lying 
sprawled in the grass, smoking my old pipe, 
companion of all my adventures, and chatting 
with my friends. The sound of the cannon 
was scarcely audible, and over the unruffled 
air came whiffs of music. We recognized the 
^'Russian Hymn" and the ''Marseillaise" 
and '' God Save the King." It was a regiment 
encamped behind us, celebrating the fall of 
Przemysl. 

It is late. I have loitered outside in the 
marvellous night, keeping company with the 
spring. The air is laden with perfume as I 
write. But ^'Sat prata hiherunt.^^ 

March 21. Sunday. This morning mass was 
said in the open air behind a great rock, a 
soldier priest officiating. Stones served as 
an altar. On it were two candles without 
candlesticks — an old-time simplicity. The 
gathering was large, and we sang canticles 
to the deep accompaniment of the distant 
cannon. 

80 



FATIGUE DUTY 

Nothing has happened to-day, except that 
a few prisoners filed by. 

This evening several men of the company 
go on fatigue duty to carry wire and shells to 
the trenches. I examined the shells. They 
have tiny wings and are fired from a cannon 
in the trench itself, and are very deadly, it 
seems. Our poilus call them ''cauliflowers." 

My section is on duty, for of course we have 
to take turns keeping guard. The service is 
very simple. Three sentries suffice, one near 
the station and storehouses, one near the 
colonel's cabin where the flag is, and the third 
near the carriages. 

March 22. Another uneventful day. The 
battalion had manoeuvres in the woods. If 
only this gives promise of the fight in the open! 
A little alarm — several shells fell on our posi- 
tion. A kitchen was destroyed and a cook 
wounded. It is very unpleasant to be bom- 
barded when you are off duty. In the trenches, 
it is part of the day's work, and for that rea- 
son swallowed down cheerfully. Besides, the 
trench is a protection, but in encampment 
where, by the very definition of the word, 
81 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

one has a right to feel secure, it is annoying. 
Those Boches have no manners. 

March 23. Last night I was detailed with 
half my section to bury the dead. The task 
was not a pleasant one, but it was accom- 
plished without reluctance or hesitation. Hav- 
ing to do the work at night made it a shade 
more lugubrious. A guide conducted us to a 
little thicket all laid bare by grapeshot, south 
of Perthes and about three kilometres from 
the first Hnes. There was no moon, and it 
was very nearly pitch dark. Trench rockets 
streaked the sky here and there, and from the 
distance came the crack of musketry. Shells 
went laboring by with the heavy breathing of 
wild beasts in a rage. A little trench was made 
into a large one to receive the bodies, and then 
we set out in search of them. They had been 
lying there for a very long time, and it was 
only the recent advance of our Hnes that 
made it possible to bury them. With some 
difficulty we managed to make out these mo- 
tionless heaps on the ground. It was necessary 
to search the pockets and take out papers, 
money, etc., also to unfasten the identification 
82 



FATIGUE DUTY 

badges that are worn on the arm like a brace- 
let. It was not an easy thing to do. In this, 
also, I was obliged to set the example. I had 
to put my hand into the pockets of a foul mass 
that fell to pieces at a touch. I found nothing 
but a pocket-book and diary. The men then 
took courage and overcame their aversion. 
The bodies were not offensive until they were 
disturbed, but the least jar brought forth an 
odor that choked you and took you by the 
throat. 

Among them were three Germans. They 
were all carried in a tent-sheet to the trench 
and laid side by side. The articles found on 
them were kept carefully in separate packets. 
Out of twenty-seven, we succeeded in identify- 
ing all but three. 

When our task was finished, the ahhe- 
infirmier^ who had accompanied us of his own 
accord, stepped to the edge of the grave and 
said a blessing. And that priest, standing out 
against the darkness, lifting his voice above 
the noise of battle in a last solemn duty to 
those pitiful fragments, was truly very fine. 
Every man of us, whether moved by religious 
conviction or not, felt the impressiveness of 
83 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

the moment, and knelt to hear the words of 
forgiveness and of life. 

This evening I went to S. S. by the little 
train to have the death certificates made out. 
The tiny mementoes had to be sent to the 
families — letters, purses, notebooks, watches. 
On one of the bodies was a letter bearing the 
inscription: "Will the person who finds my 
body have the kindness to send this letter, 
together with the exact description of my 
grave, to the following address. ..." I took 
the letter, and wrote a few words to the family. 
I did my best to make a drawing of the spot 
where the poor fellow was buried, and told 
them about the blessing that had been said 
over his grave. And into the same envelope 
I put that sacred letter, bloody, smeared with 
mud, ill-smelling, — a letter from the dead. 

March 24. An artillery officer who was at 
the village with me yesterday invited me to 
go and see his battery. After the daily muster 
of the company I started out. I had marked 
on my map the exact position of the battery 
and found it without difficulty. 

The captain received me in his dug-out, a 
84 



VISIT TO THE ARTILLERY 

regular palace compared to the squalid quar- 
ters of us poor infantrymen. Twenty feet 
under ground, well supported by planks, it 
contained all sorts of modern comforts — a 
real bed, a table, chairs, besides a quantity of 
knick-knacks that indicated a prolonged stay. 
Pinned up on the walls were the delicious 
women of Fabiano, of Nam and of Prejelan, 
taken from "La Vie Parisienne"; a violin was 
hanging in one corner, and on a table lay the 
sonatas of Bach. There were a number of 
little objects on the shelves made from frag- 
ments of shells. My host gave me tea in china 
cups. All this luxury enchanted me. A tele- 
phone on the table connected the dug-out 
with the battery, the first line, and the colo- 
nel's headquarters. I could not resist asking 
him to play, and this pupil of the Polytechnic 
executed for me, and executed well, the famous 
saraband. 

"Now, after the chamber-music," said he, 
"I'm going to let you hear the grand orches- 
tra." And he conducted me to his battery. 
The four pieces, all draped in foliage and well 
covered with earth, were silent. But they 
remained fixedly aimed at their invisible ob- 
85 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

jective, a trench some three kilometres ahead. 
Thanks to the hydro-pneumatic brake, the 
75 does not need to be re-aimed after firing. To 
please me, the captain ordered three shells 
fired from each piece. I even fired a shot my- 
self. Finally I saw the little valve that has only 
to be manipulated in a certain way to render 
the piece useless in case it falls into the hands 
of the enemy. The gunners are under orders 
to attend to this. 

I took leave, with many thanks to my host 
for his kindness. I was gratified to have pene- 
trated a Httle into the sumptuous domain of 
the artillery. 

On arriving in camp I learned that the cap- 
tain had sent in my name for promotion to the 
rank of second lieutenant, because of what 
happened last week. I am very much pleased. 

March 25. This morning to our great sur- 
prise we were told to return to S. S. We 
reached there toward six o'clock. Same quar- 
ters as before. I noticed in passing how rapidly 
the cemetery has been growing of late. 

March 26. Review of our brigade this morn- 
86 



VISIT TO THF ARTILLERY 

ing. The two regiments assembled by sections 
in columns of four, with flags and music. The 
general passed along our front at a gallop. 
Then we defiled. The impression of strength 
is immense when one stands in the midst of 
all these glittering bayonets above which float 
the bright colors of our flag — the wall of steel 
that is holding back the enemy and will crush 
him when the hour strikes. With it all comes 
the consciousness of one's own role, which is 
humble and yet great. For that wall of steel 
is made of glittering, separate points, and I 
am one of them. It is joy untold to be able to 
say to one's self, "All my struggles and all my 
sufferings count for something in the great ac- 
tion of the whole." 

The general then went along by the different 
companies. He stopped to speak to me, and 
told me that from to-day I shall rank in the 
army as second lieutenant. 

Naturally, this event had to be celebrated. 
I treated my colleagues to champagne. Just 
as festivities were well under way, orders came 
to start at once for the trenches. Here is the 
programme for the next few days: — 

Two days in the first line. 
87 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

Two days in reserve, Hill i8i. 

Two days in the second line. 

It is rumored that this army corps is to be 
laid off a whole month to recuperate. 

Lots of rumors float about, fantastic and 
otherwise. It's what they call ^'kitchen gos- 
sip." But this one is perhaps true. Meanwhile 
we are buckling on our things, and in two 
hours, off we go. 

I am going to write to all my people to 
announce my promotion. 



CHAPTER VII 

IN THE FRONT LINES — THE TRENCH CANNON — 
GAS BOMBS — CAPTURE OF A BOCHE TRENCH — 
GRENADES — HILL l8l — IN THE SECOND LINE 
— OUR LAST DAYS IN CHAMPAGNE 

March 27. I am writing my journal in a big 
underground shelter, comfortably stretched 
out in a hammock that someone has rigged 
up of two old tent-sheets. We are in an ugly 
sector, and are using the mine galleries as 
dug-outs, for grenades are falling thick and 
fast. 

We are in the same trench as the enemy, — • 
next-door neighbors in fact, and not a bit civil. 
Nothing but a barricade of bags of earth sepa- 
rates us from the Boches. Near the barricade 
stand the sentries, attentive and silent. No 
sound is heard on either side except for the 
whizzing of grenades that are continually 
being tossed back and forth. But the sentries 
are well protected in the sides of the trench, 
like saints in niches, and they defy the Ger- 
man ''turtles." 

89 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

The first German and French lines are in 
immediate contact. The reason is that our 
side has not been able to seize the whole of the 
trench, of which the enemy still occupies the 
eastern end. But this situation will not last, 
I think, and we shall increase our gains. 

The trench is clean, except for bodies im- 
perfectly buried here and there. We no longer 
pay any attention to them, but the really 
deplorable thing is that many corpses fell in 
the mud, the mud has hardened, and the 
trench is less than five feet deep. It is impossi- 
ble to make it deeper, for the least stroke of a 
pick brings up a piece of cloth or a bit of flesh. 
To move about, we have to bend like hunch- 
backs. It is both painful and dangerous, so 
the men don't move around much but stay in 
the shelters. 

There is something very amusing here — a 
trench cannon, a Httle one such as people fire 
during popular celebrations. You put powder 
in it, then a 77 shell (German projectiles that 
get sent back to them), then a fuse that is 
lighted with a tinder — noise — smoke — the 
shell goes off in one direction, the cannon in the 
other. The little fiend ought to take lessons of 
90 



THE TRENCH CANNON 

the 75's to cure it of going on its dance after 
each shot. But there is plenty of time to re- 
aim, and a man especially detailed for the 
work takes charge of it. Of course, I could n't 
resist firing it a few times. The pedestal is 
gruesome. It is a corpse, a body well encased 
in mud, except that the feet are sticking out. 
It is a Boche. The soles of his shoes are shod 
with iron just like horseshoes. This fact has 
caused a good deal of merriment. The shells 
are sent to the trenches over opposite. For 
the German trench at our side we use hand 
grenades, and not stingily either. They too, 
of course, are making the best of their oppor- 
tunities, though up to now we have no 
wounded. But we have had some unpleasant 
escapes from being overcome by gas. The 
Germans vary the monotony of the missiles 
that come over the barricade by sending gas 
bombs. These bombs in bursting emit an 
acrid smoke that smells of sulphur and fills 
the whole trench. We discovered that we 
could ward off the worst of the danger by 
putting handkerchiefs before our mouths. 
When these bombs burst against the wall of 
the trench, they leave a yellow splotch. 
91 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

I remain quiet very little in the trench. I 
have a horror of inactivity, and I don't seem 
to want to read, so I wander back and forth 
a good deal from one end of my sector to the 
other, keeping an eye on everything. 

A little while ago one of my poilus came to 
me and said: ''I think, Lieutenant, the Boches 
are busy mining our trench." I Hstened but 
heard nothing. Then I went into his shelter 
and I did, for a fact, hear mufHed blows, struck 
regularly. Evidently they were working under- 
neath us. It is very disagreeable when you are 
already underground to feel this hidden, slow 
work, impossible to prevent, that may blow 
you up at any minute. And the tiresome part 
of it is that since that moment, every one is 
convinced that he hears the strokes that are 
digging the abyss underneath him. Such is 
the power of imagination, Pascal. But the 
captain was notified and telephoned in turn 
to headquarters. An officer of the engineering 
corps came and listened with a microphone, 
and said we were in no danger; in the trench 
beside us a French mine gallery has already 
been pierced underneath that mine. In front 
of all the network of trenches there are under- 
'92 



GAS BOMBS 

ground listening-posts where the sappers lis- 
ten with their microphones and register the 
least sound. This officer told me that two days 
before he had blown up a Boche mine. In 
order to do that, the exact location of the 
enemy's gallery must be ascertained, then a 
hole is bored toward it with a drill similar to 
the one used in boring wells. When the right 
spot is reached, it is packed and blown up 
with a bickford. The explosion chamber of 
the German mine goes into the air along with 
its inhabitants. The same fate awaits the 
mine we have been worrying about. In mine 
warfare, the essential thing in the conflict is 
just the opposite of the war in the air, where 
it is a question of getting above the enemy 
aviator. The counter-mine, on the contrary, 
must go beneath the enemy mine; when it 
reaches it at the same height, they blow it up. 
It sometimes happens that the miners sud- 
denly find themselves face to face with the en- 
emy. Then they kill one another as best they 
can, with hammers if they have no revolvers. 
It is not very edifying, this kind of warfare. 
I am going to console myself by inviting my 
sergeants to tea. 

93 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

For the fun of it, I have concocted a letter 
and thrown it into the Boche trench beside us. 
In my most polite German I invited those 
who were tired of waging war to come and 
surrender. They would be well treated by the 
French. They would simply need to present 
themselves, unarmed, in front of the barricade 
of bags of earth and whistle the first measures 
of a tune known to all Germans, '^Ich haW 
einen Kameraden.'^ In a little while the sentry 
brought me a paper. It was the answer. Here 
is the translation: "We shall be relieved to- 
night about one o'clock. We will take advan- 
tage of the confusion to come, three of us to- 
gether, and surrender. At midnight we shall 
be on sentry duty near the barricade. We 
count on your promise to treat us well." I 
carried this paper to the captain and trans- 
lated it to him. The information as to chang- 
ing troops was interesting; he is going to 
telephone it to headquarters. 

March 28. What a riotous night! And by 
the same token, what a good piece of work we 
did ! We took all the trench beside us, about 
fifty metres, and a machine gun. 
94 



CAPTURE OF A BOCHE TRENCH 

The first part of the night was uneventful, 
except for an abominable shower of grenades 
the Boches kept basting at us. Three of my 
men were wounded, slightly, I think, for they 
were able to walk to the dressing-station. 
About half-past ten the captain came to look 
over the situation, and I suggested that it 
might be a good idea to attack the trench at 
the moment they were changing. The various 
possibilities were considered, and finally my 
superior officer told me to do as I saw fit, 
leaving me the entire initiative in the matter. 
All I asked of him was to forbid the second 
line to fire. I sent for my friend H. and en- 
trusted to him the command of my section 
after carefully discussing the various contin- 
gencies. The most devoted and intelligent of 
my corporals was to go with me, and I called 
for volunteers from the squads to help in 
an undertaking that might prove dangerous. 
Almost all the men offered. I chose six, who 
armed themselves with their bayonets, and 
took ten grenades apiece. Then I went to the 
barricade and, with the aid of a periscope and 
trench rockets, was able to get an exact idea 
of the German trench. One thing bothered 

95 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

me — a machine gun placed not far from us. 
I ordered a score or so of grenades thrown at 
it. Men were hit, but the gun seemed intact. 
Shortly after eleven o'clock I heard them 
whistling the popular air of the Uhlans. I 
whistled it in turn, when presently three great 
gawks appeared on the barricade with their 
arms raised above their heads, and jumped 
into our trench. I put them under strong 
guard and questioned them. It seems their 
comrades were leaving at that very moment; 
they were being sent away before the arrival 
of the other troops. These three had man- 
aged to be put on sentry duty and at that 
moment no one was guarding the entrance to 
the trench. For a second the idea flashed 
through my head that this was a trap, and I 
threatened to have them shot if they were 
lying. But I went to the barricade and saw 
that the trench was for a fact empty, except 
for the machine gunners who were on duty 
beside their gun. I quickly gave orders to tear 
down the barricade and we ran into the Boche 
trench. The men of my section, according to 
my instructions, set up a furious fire in order 
to distract the attention of the enemy from 
96 



GRENADES 

the sector we were trying to take. As we ran, 
we threw grenades at the machine gunners, 
who sank down before being able to turn 
their guns against us. In a twinkUng we 
reached the end of the trench, intersected at 
right angles by a communication trench. A 
few grenades went after the last Boches who 
were going off to recuperate. Like lightning 
we piled up four or five bodies and rolled down 
several bags of earth from the parapet, brought 
up the machine gun, and from behind the bar- 
ricade of dead men and earth fired three 
rounds into the retreating Germans. They 
were thrown into a panic. A good many must 
have been killed, for daylight disclosed to our 
gaze that trench piled with dead. The whole 
thing had not lasted more than two minutes. 
We were deluged with grenades, a continuous 
zip, zip; one of our men was killed, three or 
four wounded. Everything was in a wild 
tumult, — trench rockets going up, guns fir- 
ing at the double-quick, a hasty report to the 
captain who came to shake hands with me. 
Barbed wire was rushed into place, and the 
trench reversed — minutes of mad excitement 
and insane activity. We were without con- 
97 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

sciousness of danger, hypnotized by the work 
to be done. 

We expected a counter-attack, but the Ger- 
man machine gun we had put at the entrance 
to the communication trench defended it too 
well for a Boche to be able to venture in that 
direction. Toward the trench opposite all the 
soldiers had their loopholes and were on the 
watch ready to fire. 

We waited. There were false alarms. A 
man who is a little nervous begins to fire 
rapidly, his neighbor follows his example, then 
the squad, then the section, then the whole 
company gets on the rampage. The machine 
guns begin to clatter, the second-Hne troops 
take alarm, the artillery steps in with a few 
shells and — the Boches over opposite, bewil- 
dered by the hubbub, send up into the sky 
large interrogation points in the shape of 
trench rockets, whose rays illumine the grass 
growing green in the spring, the tangle of wire 
and several poor dead bodies lying with hands 
outstretched toward the opposite trench, as if 
pointing the path of duty to the ones behind. 

The counter-attack did not come, but shells 
upon shells were rained upon us. I gave my 
98 



HILL i8i 

canteen of wine to my prisoners, for, after all, 
they were somewhat to be thanked for our 
success. It is nothing at all, fifty metres of 
trench, and yet, it is a few feet of France won 
back again. 

I received my reward; two packages and 
five letters. In one of the packages was a big 
April Fool's day fish made of chocolate, all 
stuffed with candy. I divided the candy among 
my men, by way of thanks for their splendid 
conduct, and then I feasted on the letters. 
Oh, the comfort of letters and words of affec- 
tion that come to find us out in the midst of 
our barbarous days ! 

March 2g. Hill i8i, in reserve. Shelters 
deep underground. From the northern crest of 
this hill can be seen the whole system of 
trenches, both French and German, in the 
basin of Perthes. I posted myself with my 
field-glass between two clumps of bushes: a 
maze of white lines, much twisted and tangled; 
from time to time rise blackish clouds. The 
ruins of Perthes become every day more 
mournful. I was driven from my post by shells. 

Every hour, exactly and methodically, two 

99 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

batteries fire their twelve shells. Forewarned, 
forearmed. When the moment is past, there 
is nothing more to fear for one hour. Unfor- 
tunately, one of the lieutenants was killed by 
a shell that was so very unmindful of usage 
as to seek him in his dug-out. 

I had the honor this morning to be shaved 
under fire. The barber of the company was 
busy relieving me of a two days' growth of 
beard when shells began to fall not far from us. 
"Go on," I cried; and though my barber's 
hand shook, he cut o£f neither my nose nor 
my ears. 

I have discovered a stove with some stove- 
pipe. The infirmary did n't want it, and sim- 
ply threw it away. I had it set up in my dug- 
out where the air is decidedly chilly. With the 
pine boughs from the woods roundabout which 
my orderly stuffs in, it keeps me warm and 
enables me to make some good chocolate. 

It is cold. To-night we shall have to go to 
the first fine to take planks and wire. But 
what a good cup of tea I shall have when I 
come back! 

March jo. Last night a blizzard came down 

lOO 



HILL i8i 

upon us. It was doubtless due to the violent 
displacement of air caused by the terrible 
bombardment that never for a moment ceases. 

I came in late — about three o'clock. We 
had to do a lot of trotting about; the communi- 
cation trenches took up the snow and were 
beginning to be muddy again. Oh, this abom- 
inable Champagne mud! 

To-day we were bombarded even more than 
usual. Several men imprudently went to walk 
in full view of the enemy. Naturally shells 
came after them, so now the men are forbidden 
to go out of the shelters. 

I slept all the morning in front of my snor- 
ing little stove. Played cards this evening. I 
feel as if I were rapidly sinking to the level of 
the brute. For variety we go to the trenches 
to-night. 

March ji. Our last days in Champagne. It 
seems we are to be laid off to recuperate and 
will change sectors afterward. One would say 
that before we go the authorities want us to 
become profoundly familiar with the land- 
scape of this desolate region. We are in the 
second line, and in front of us stretches the 

lOI 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

panorama of all the trenches we have held, 
beginning with Hill i8i. The weather is clear. 
The snow did not last. We can see the woods, 
stripped bare by shells, as well as the whole 
labyrinth of trenches and communications, 
then the ruins of the stricken village of 
Perthes. With my glass I can make out the 
first trench I occupied. I recognize it from 
certain little details, but we have gone a 
long way ahead since then, more than a kilo- 
metre. 

Day comparatively calm. Nothing to do 
except be ready to sustain a possible attack. 
We sleep, read, or play cards. 

The Boches are still bombarding Perthes 
and Hill i8i. The big marmites send up into 
the night splendid luminous volcanoes, or else 
burst above the trenches in clouds that whirl 
off down the wind. The curious thing is that 
you see the explosion long before you hear 
it, and the hiss of the bomb sounds directly 
overhead at the very moment when it is 
bursting in the distance. I had to explain 
this phenomenon to my men, whose knowl- 
edge of acoustics is not very extensive. 

I have just witnessed a magnificent and 

I02 



IN THE SECOND LINE 

terrible sight — a German attack in close for- 
mation crushed in less time than it takes to 
tell it. To the east, in the direction of Beause- 
jour, was an intense bombardment; then 
through my glass I could see gray masses 
emerge, gesticulating and densely crowded 
together. This attack was caught between 
two curtains of fire. The raging 75's hurled a 
curtain of fire in front of them, keeping them 
from advancing, and one behind them that 
made it impossible for them to get back to 
their trenches. They were wiped out to the 
very last man. There was a mad dance in the 
air of scattered limbs, mingled with clouds of 
dirt and smoke. The incredible part of it is 
that nothing was left on the ground, or next 
to nothing. It was as if the bodies of those 
men had been volatilized and made one with 
the air. We were transfijced with horror and 
filled with rapturous hope. May the fight in 
the open be not delayed ! Our 75's will quickly 
give us the victory. 

Holy Thursday. Our aviators are floating 
gracefully about in the twilight — a twilight 
divinely calm. It is Holy Week. The strains 
103 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

of the great Johann Sebastian and of "Parsi- 
fal" keep running through my head. 

Orders have come. We are to be relieved 
this evening. We are going to recuperate and 
then, they say, to Alsace. I shall be so happy 
to have a chance to fight on the soil we have 
won back. 

This is our last day in Champagne. I am 
leaving without regret this land of desola- 
tion where I have known difficult hours and 
a few splendid moments. What tried me most 
sorely was this mole-like existence, I who am 
always longing for large action and open and 
intense fighting with an enemy who is before 
your eyes. 

The Boches have been bombarding rather 
violently. That is to be expected since it is 
Holy Thursday. But in spite of everything, 
there has been something religious in the calm 
of the elements these latter days. Nature is 
at her devotions. This evening is superb. 
Shells are bursting in great numbers, and the 
little church of Perthes totters as if it were 
about to fall. Through the loopholes comes the 
mew of spent bullets, but these noises disturb 
but little the heavenly serenity of the twilight. 
104 



OUR LAST DAYS IN CHAMPAGNE 

Larks are singing, full-throated, a sublime 
paean of life and joy. In the distance lie the 
dead, and the frightful, mangled corpse of the 
village of Perthes. 



CHAPTER VIII 

A MONTH AWAY FROM THE TRENCHES 

(For a month our life is spent in marches and 
more or less prolonged stays in various en- 
campments in the region of the Meuse — a 
calm existence, without many events of in- 
terest. My journal relates only a few scat- 
tered incidents.) 

April J. First stage. Left Cabane-Puits this 
morning at three, and reached here at eight. 

Little village partly destroyed by the 
Boches, barbarously, when they were obliged 
to fall back at the time of the battle of the 
Marne. I am billeted in the house of a peasant 
woman who has told us many tales of their 
atrocities. The church is in ruins. It seems 
they locked up in it a very old grandmother 
and then set fire to it. A striking thing in the 
midst of the ruins of this church is a statue, 
still standing, — the only one, — a statue of 
Joan of Arc made of plaster, her sword broken, 
her face blackened with smoke, her banner 
1 06 



A MONTH IN RESERVE 

half gone, but proud and erect, truly a stirring 
sight. What a fine subject for an article for 
Maurice Barres! That virgin symbolizing our 
will to conquer, France wounded and bleed- 
ing, but still valiant and undaunted and full of 
faith. I am told the statue of Joan of Arc at 
the entrance to the Cathedral of Rheims has 
not been touched by shells either. It is as if 
the soul of our country, incarnated in our 
superb heroine, wished to manifest itself thus 
to its defenders. 

There is a rumor that we shall go to the 
Dardanelles. What luck that would be! Per- 
haps I could rejoin my brother who enHsted 
at eighteen and has just started with the 
expeditionary force. 

April 6. We have been on the march for 
three days. I cannot quite make out the rea- 
son for all this marching. Certainly we are 
not on the way to fight, for then we should 
go by rail. It is n't rest, either, thirty kilo- 
metres a day of rather hard marching. And 
then we march in broad daylight. Perhaps it is 
to throw the enemy off the scent and simulate 
extensive shifting of troops. 
107 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

We have crossed the rich pasture lands of 
the Argonne and the deep, thick forests to the 
north of which the fighting is in progress. The 
sight of all this wonderful vegetation has sud- 
denly made me realize that spring is here. The 
desolation of Champagne — a real desert, 
with a few clumps of mutilated pines — had 
given scarcely a hint of its coming. Here there 
are perfumes and flowers, gayety, pleasant 
sunshine, birds. But not everything is gay. 
We have come through many a wrecked and 
desecrated village — one especially in which 
not a single house was left standing. It hap- 
pened that a sort of wooden shed just outside 
the village hid the ruins. The band was 
marching with our battalion that day. The 
band-master, as usual, had them play a march, 
and we prepared to file into the village at 
attention. Then, in our proudest trim, with 
clarions and flourish of trumpets, we entered 
suddenly upon a blackened, blasted street 
between two long heaps of rubbish, — not a 
house, not a living soul, only chaos and empti- 
ness. A strange contrast — that sparkling 
music with those ruins. But was not this also 
an act of faith — a promise? 
io8 



A MONTH IN RESERVE 

As a rule we set out about eight in the morn- 
ing and at one o'clock make a long halt. A 
rolling kitchen for each company has been 
included in our regimental train since our de- 
parture from the trenches. When we arrive, 
generally rather tired, we have hot coffee and 
soup. In the evening on reaching encampment 
we salute the flag and every one gets settled 
in his quarters. Villages in ruins for the most 
part. There has been no fighting here, but, 
when they left, the Germans set fire to things 
everywhere. 

At B.-sur-A. is a marvellous Gothic church 
in the purest style very nearly wrecked. Oh, 
destroyers of cathedrals! It brings freshly to 
my mind the great grief I felt on learning of 
the burning of Notre Dame de Rheims. Since 
that moment I have sworn hatred to the Ger- 
mans. To kill men is, after all, the business of 
war and it can be explained, even if it cannot 
be excused. But to try to kill the soul of a 
whole epoch, the sublime and imposing spirit 
of the Middle Ages, which had put into its 
cathedrals all its faith, all its aspirations, all 
its life! — The Germans are jealous of the 
splendor of our country, and they who have 
109 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

raised their Gothic monuments only in the 
school of France — for Gothic was born in 
the lie de France — they who have had the 
wit only to imitate are determined to be first 
and foremost in the art of destruction. And 
they know very well that the French will not 
make reprisals and that Nuremberg and the 
Wartburg will still be standing after our 
victory. 

April p. On the banks of the Meuse be- 
tween Verdun and Saint-Mihiel. 

The taking of Eparges has just been an- 
nounced to us. It is a great success, and great 
in consequences I think. We have been 
brought here as an army of reinforcements to 
be used in case of need. But our comrades 
took the mountain without us. 

We rest, we exercise mildly. I have been 
boating a little on the Meuse. At night I like 
to climb the heights above the village, where 
one can see the search-lights of Verdun sweep- 
ing the sky. 

I play a while at the church every day. The 
band of our regiment gives a daily concert at 
four. 

no 



A MONTH IN RESERVE 

Much bustle and stir. Endless convoys pass; 
Boche 'planes come along from time to time 
and are driven off by our artillery. 

April 14. We are kept continually on the 
move. Now we are headed south. 

A splendid ceremony yesterday — the deco- 
ration of our flag. Our regiment received the 
Croix d'Honneur for its conduct in Cham- 
pagne. 

The whole army corps was massed in a vast 
area of untilled fields. Bluecoats everywhere. 
It was very beautiful. The generals arrived 
and passed along our front, while we all pre- 
sented arms. Then the flags of all the regi- 
ments were placed side by side, with their 
escort of honor. Three of the number were to 
be decorated, and were set a little in advance 
of this splendid group of shimmering rags 
floating triumphantly in the wind. All the 
bands together played the Marseillaise. I 
could not see much, I was so far away, but I 
did see the general kiss the flags which seemed 
to droop toward him, and I clearly heard the 
swelling notes of our national hymn flung to 
the sky by the bands and by our hearts. Then 
III 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

the whole army corps, bayonets and sabres 
bared, defiled. 

With our beloved standard we returned to 
cantonment. The colonel made us march 
before it once more. The glory of our flag 
was reflected on each one of us and we were 
very proud. 

April 20. Continual marches. Springtime. 
Rest. 

Very uniform life. On reaching a village, 
after lodging my men, I always sally forth to 
find the church and play the organ. It is my 
great joy. 

The other day we had execution parade. 
Two soldiers of the regiment were court- 
martialed for refusing to go to the trenches 
and hiding while the others were fighting. 
They were condemned to hard labor. 

In the morning the regiment assembled in a 
hollow square. Three battalions formed three 
sides; the fourth was made up of the machine- 
gun corps, the sanitary corps, and the band. 
On the arrival of the condemned men, who 
were dressed in the chestnut brown costume 
of the convict, their heads shaved, without 

112 



A MONTH IN RESERVE 

the slightest vestige of anything military, the 
colonel ordered us to fix bayonets and shoulder 
arms. The prisoners were brought into the 
middle of the square under the conduct of four 
soldiers with fixed bayonets. The drums beat 
a rufHe — a long, low roll followed by com- 
plete silence. Then a sergeant-major read the 
sentence. The drums rolled once more, after 
which the two men passed along in front 
of the ranks — supreme ignominy for those 
who are unworthy to bear arms. Then they 
were handed over to the gendarmes and we all 
dispersed. 

April 22. Reached the banks of the Marne- 
Rhine Canal, along which I have had so many 
beautiful walks near Nancy in the old days. 
We are going to entrain. For what point? For 
Alsace, perhaps, or the Dardanelles. 

April 25. Neither Alsace nor the Darda- 
nelles. The secret was well kept. We did not 
know where we were going until we actually 
arrived. To the Somme, not far from Amiens. 

Our journey was a long one. Leaving Bar- 
le-Duc at 3 a.m. we did not get out of the train 
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DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

until II at night. It was a bitter disappoint- 
ment when I found I was turning my back on 
Alsace. I began to follow on my map the 
branch lines leading toward the south. There 
were two. We passed them by. We were going 
in the direction of Paris. We followed the 
battle-field of the Marne — Cezanne, Terte- 
Gauche, La Fere-Champenoise, Coulommiers. 
Along the railroad tracks were trenches, and 
individual shelters, shell holes, and graves, — 
graves everywhere, either big, common graves 
decorated with flowers and inscriptions, many- 
colored, or else separate graves. But over 
them all waves the bright tricolor, joyously. 
They lie in the midst of a veritable flower- 
garden of flags, those who have died for our 
country. 

We met an armored train run by marine 
fusiliers. The big guns are graced by the 
names of women: La Joconde, Josephine, etc. 
The marines made friendly signals to us as we 
passed. 

And then, toward evening, we reached the 

outskirts of Paris, in all the adorable beauty 

of springtime and blossoming trees, to say 

nothing of its houses, real ones, big, beautiful, 

114 



A MONTH IN RESERVE 

luxurious. We had come so near forgetting 
what they looked like. And the women smiled, 
and waved to the soldiers who were going off 
to defend them. 

Very near Paris we stopped for two hours, 
so near that half an hour in an omnibus would 
have brought us out at the Opera. We stayed 
there a long time, with our eyes fixed upon the 
Capital, and many of us were sad at being so 
close to those who were dear to us when they 
so little suspected it. The bugle for departure 
brought me back from my reveries, and we 
plunged once more into the night. 

At II o'clock we detrained and marched 
until about 2 a.m. Before daybreak we were 
under shelter. Orders had arrived. We were 
forbidden to go out in the daytime except 
when it was possible to keep out of sight. It 
was essential for the enemy to remain in 
ignorance of our presence. A very strict watch 
was instituted against enemy aviators. Pa- 
trols provided with field-glasses were stationed 
on the heights; beside each patrol was a bugler. 
As soon as an aeroplane was sighted, long, slow 
bugle notes indicated that every one must 
hide. Staccato notes meant that the danger 
115 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

was over. There were numerous alarms, — 
Boche 'planes going to throw bombs on Amiens, 
also several French 'planes. By way of pre- 
caution, the bugle is sounded for every kind 
of air-craft and the short notes indicating 
*' danger past" reecho as soon as the sentry 
spies on the wings of the 'plane the tricolor 
cockade. 

I am billeted at the house of a cheery and 
charming peasant woman who is kindness 
itself. She dotes on officers and treats us roy- 
ally. I wish it might last, this life of peace and 
comfort. But something is brewing. The 
storm will burst before long. Of that much I 
am certain. 

April 27. DeHcious far niente. I am en- 
throned in idleness like a pasha. We are not 
allowed to show ourselves, so our rest is abso- 
lute. But we are well taken care of, and I am 
not complaining. Meanwhile the commander 
calls us together each day to expound the 
principles of the new tactics. There are not 
to be any more little local attacks, like those 
in Champagne, but big attacks, and the unit 
of combat will be the company and no longer 
116 



A MONTH IN RESERVE 

the section. The goal we must aim at is to 
take at a single blow all the enemy's trenches, 
so as to push him back into the open. First, 
the artillery will hammer the Boche trenches; 
then we shall have to jump over them, while 
crews of *' trench-cleaners" follow in our wake 
to put in order the trenches thus conquered. 
The men of the crews are armed with revolvers 
and knives. 

Decidedly the war is daily growing more 
terrible. 

There are other principles, too, that have 
reference to working in concert with the 
artillery. But I think it is lunch time. 

April JO. We start this evening. There is 
to be a grand offensive. Some great stroke is 
being prepared. Will it be the decisive one? 
I still dream the same dream that haunted 
me in the training-camp; the grand entry into 
Berlin, Unter den Linden, but especially the 
triumphal return to Paris, under the Arc de 
I'Etoile, down the Champs-Elysees. 

I am rather sorry to leave the life of 
comfort and good cheer I have been lead- 
ing these days. But thanks to this respite 
117 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

I shall be all the more ready for work, I 
think. 

It is a month since I left Champagne. For 
a month we have been going about from 
village to village, from Champagne to the 
Meuse, from the Meuse to Lorraine, from 
Lorraine to Flanders. I have seen many 
countrysides. I have lodged in many villages. 
Everywhere we have had a marvellous recep- 
tion, of a kind to make us forget the hardships 
that are past, and grow strong for those to 
come. 



CHAPTER IX 

before the grand offensive 
(artois, may 1-8, 191 5) 

May I. Here we are near Arras, on the eve of 
returning to the trenches. 

We have had a long journey, in order to 
travel a very few miles; we left at night, of 
course, and arrived late at night at Saint-Pol. 
On coming out of the station we found before 
us a long train of autobuses waiting to trans- 
port us to the front. They were big goods 
trucks, very powerful, arranged with four seats 
each, on which there was room for twenty 
men. Then the companies were divided by 
turns into groups of twenty, and the men took 
their places. The officers had a very comfort- 
able motor car. It did not take more than 
half an hour to get everybody settled; the 
swiftness was marvellous. Then this train 
that bore nearly a thousand men set out into 
the darkness. Not a light was lighted. Every 
effort was made to maintain secrecy. 

For two solid hours we jolted along at a 
119 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

lively clip over roads that were torn to pieces 
by the countless convoys which pass every 
minute of the day and night. We were liter- 
ally shrouded in dust when we arrived at day- 
break at Agnez-les-Duisans. There we got 
out, the companies formed once more, and we 
took a bite of breakfast by the side of the road 
while the quartermasters went ahead to look 
after billets. Ours was roomy and well sup- 
plied with straw; unfortunately, in the course 
of the day it was discovered that the straw was 
full of fleas, and the men had to move out and 
take refuge in cramped quarters. 

We are forbidden to go out in groups. A 
vigilance service has been organized as before. 
We have been watching the manoeuvring of a 
captive ''sausage" balloon, a kind of balloon 
that is shaped and ballasted in such a way 
as to prevent its being driven about at the 
mercy of every wind, like the spherical bal- 
loons. 

Our mess is well installed. My colleague R. 
always bestirs himself to find the right place, 
and he is lucky. 

To-morrow we return to the trenches. 
There is great massing of troops in this region, 

120 



BEFORE THE GRAND OFFENSIVE 

So this is where the great stroke will be 
delivered. 

May J. Once more we take up the life of 
war. We have been in the trenches since last 
night. We had nearly lost the wont of shot 
and shell, though we are managing to keep 
up a good face. But how different this is from 
Champagne! Here it is comfortable, almost 
to the point of luxury, and the sector is as 
calm as calm — a few isolated cannon shots 
now and then just to let each other know we 
are here. 

Two of the four sections of my company are 
in the first line; the two others are in the sup- 
port trenches. Between the two groups is the 
captain in a strongly sheltered dug-out, with 
the telephone near by. In front of the trench 
are two listening-posts, where two men and a 
corporal are continually on the watch, pro- 
tected by a net from the enemy's grenades. 
I am in a trench about eighty metres from 
the German lines. This trench is admirably 
arranged. 

A bench dug in the wall serves at once as a 
seat and as a place to fire from; the soldier 

121 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

who is about to fire mounts on it and fires 
through an improved loophole — large on the 
inside and smaller toward the enemy, so that 
the Boches cannot easily get a line on the 
person who is firing. The trench is about eight 
feet deep and in the sides have been hollowed 
out roomy individual shelters, a sort of niche 
with plenty of room for one man. 

There are two mines sunk between us and 
the enemy. I intend to go and see them. My 
dug-out has two stories, a bedroom containing 
a couch of earth covered with straw, and 
some planks for shelves; underneath, at a 
depth of eight or ten metres, is a dug-out con- 
taining cartridges and grenades. The main 
store of munitions is near the captain. 

The men, too, are comfortably installed. 
Each one has his own hole which he can make 
bigger or arrange to suit himself. Besides, in 
case of a heavy bombardment, it is possible 
to take refuge in the big mine galleries. Fin- 
ally, two machine guns, carefully protected, 
guard the space that separates us from the 
Boches. 

And then, there are casks of water in the 
trench itself. Could anything be more unlike 

122 



BEFORE THE GRAND OFFENSIVE 

the trench at Perthes? The fatigues fill 
them daily from the well not far distant, and 
we can drink as much as we please. In order 
to keep the water cool, the casks are put deep 
in the ground. There are a number of round- 
bottomed metal bowls in the trench, the use 
of which was explained to us in the daily bul- 
letin. On account of the great number of head 
wounds, it has been found advisable to adopt 
helmets in the French army. Meanwhile, 
these little bowls can be put inside the cap to 
protect the head. I tried one and found it 
heavy. But I shall certainly use it if there is 
any need. Our ingenious poilus discover all 
sorts of uses for these bowls. They empty 
their pockets into them, put into them the 
supply of cartridges that every man is obliged 
to have by him at his loophole, thus keeping 
the cartridges free of the mud which clogs 
and spoils the guns. And I used one for a 
wash-basin, and helped myself to a little of 
the drinking-water to wash in. 

Although the sector was quiet, I did not 
sleep. The orders were that one man out of 
two was to be allowed to sleep. The arrange- 
ment of the trench did not permit taking one 
123 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

half-section for a certain time and then the 
other. That would have required awkward 
shifting about, so I hit upon another plan. I 
paired off the men according to the old princi- 
ple of putting chums to work together. Either 
one or the other was to be always awake. They 
were allowed to arrange the details to suit 
themselves. Sometimes the one who was least 
tired good-naturedly kept watch and let the 
other sleep as long as he wished. I like to leave 
a certain amount of Hberty and initiative to 
my men. It always pleases them, and the 
service is much better attended to. During 
the night we keep up a good deal of firing. 
This bothers the German workers or their lis- 
tening-patrols and prevents our men from 
getting drowsy. 

I went to the listening-post, about sixty 
metres from the German trenches. It is haz- 
ardous to look out except with a periscope. 
The landscape is very nearly as monotonous 
as in Champagne: barbed wire, gray lines, 
and a few dead bodies lying between the Hnes, 
but the vegetation is richer and more luxuri- 
ant. In front of the listening-post is a mine. 
In case of attack the earth can be blown up 
124 



BEFORE THE GRAND OFFENSIVE 

twenty metres in advance, simply by lighting 
a bickford fuse. 

So the sector is perfectly clean, comfort- 
able, and quiet. Very httle work is done ex- 
cept at night, and even then, not much. 

At noon we are going into the support 
trench. 

Evening. In the second line. We are in deep 
dug-outs, well-protected, regular cellars, abun- 
dantly provided with straw. I have been sleep- 
ing a Httle. Our food is brought to us at the 
captain's. A warming apparatus makes it 
possible for us to have excellent hot meals. 
The men are well treated, too. The kitchens 
are much easier of access than in Champagne. 

We have been warned by telephone to be 
on the lookout for a probable German attack. 
It seems they have been throwing to the 
English numerous proclamations, all ending 
with : — 

^'When is that French attack coming?" 

So they are expecting to be attacked, and 

perhaps they will forestall our offensive. In 

case of an alarm I am to betake myself with 

my men to the first line. Our position, of 

125 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

course, is settled in advance. At five o'clock 
there was a sort of commotion, a false alarm, 
cooked up by the enemy, doubtless, and we 
all hurried to our fighting posts in the first 
line, and then — marched back again. 

To-night we shall have to keep our eyes and 
ears open, and all the officers are to take turns 
in going the rounds. My hours are nine and 
two. 

May 4. Two more false alarms last night. 
A soldier thinks he hears suspicious noises, gets 
excited, and fires like mad. The panic goes 
churning down the line and raises a regular 
hurricane in its trail. 

In making the rounds, I went over the whole 
ground occupied by the company. From time 
to time a flash from my electric lamp showed 
me the way through the deserted communica- 
tion trenches. Every one was at his post. The 
enemy could come on if he wished. To tell 
the truth, not a single shell was sent our way. 
The Boches had never been less troublesome. 

To-day it is raining, and I regret to see that 
the soil of Artois gets muddy easily too. Hav- 
ing nothing else to do, I asked an officer of the 
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BEFORE THE GRAND OFFENSIVE 

engineering corps for permission to go into the 
mine. He consented most willingly, and went 
down with me into the gallery. It is solidly 
built, and supported by heavy planks, for the 
brittle earth might easily stop up this narrow 
space. I had to crawl on all fours a long time 
before reaching the end, where the Hstening- 
post was. Two men were on duty there, stand- 
ing with their ears close to the wall, in the 
yellowish light of a single candle. We were 
under the German trench. On listening care- 
fully I made out a faint murmur of voices, 
very indistinct and muffled. I should not have 
objected to overhearing the conversation of 
those men who were in all likelihood to die 
before many days were spent. The large 
explosion chamber of the mine was to be 
stuffed with cheddite, and at the given mo- 
ment, an electric spark would send that 
trench and its inhabitants on a journey in the 
air. It was n't at all pleasant down in that 
hole. The air was stifling, and I was glad 
enough, after another long crawl, to j&nd my- 
self in the open again, if the trench maybe 
called the open. 

In order to guard against gas bombs we 
127 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

have been given horrible, nightmarish masks, 
goggles set in a kind of pig jowl or snout made 
of rubber and containing a solution of ammo- 
nia. They make you look like a wild animal, 
and as soon as I got mine I put it on for the 
benefit of my poilus. They nearly laughed 
themselves into fits. 

But life in general is calm, too calm even. 
I am reading ''Anna Karenina," that came by 
mail yesterday, and smoking endless pipes. 
The men make lots of aluminum rings. As 
soon as a shell lands they start out to look for 
the fust, of which they fashion very artistic 
little rings. My soldiers have given me several. 
I am on most friendly terms with them all. At 
odd times I have bought them little extras in 
the way of wine or sweets, and then I manage 
things so that they get their letters before 
any of the other sections. The letters come 
toward midnight, wdth the fatigue who brings 
rations. I am always on hand, and along 
with my own correspondence I take that of 
my men. It is the one great joy of the day, 
so why should it be deferred? To be sure, 
it is because I am so keen on letters myself 
that I like the men to share my pleasure. And 
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BEFORE THE GRAND OFFENSIVE 

if they have no light, they have permission to 
come to my dug-out, which is always lighted. 
They insist on my taking some of all their good 
things, candies, cigarettes, or what-not, when 
a package comes. But I can find a way to 
even things up. 

I think I have my men well in hand. I shall 
be able to do some good work with them when 
the time comes. 

May 5. At noon, returned to the first line. 
After that the day was eventful. It was de- 
cided, by way of preparation for future offen- 
sives, to furnish the attacking sections with 
red and white pennons, which were to serve as 
signals to the artillery, and mark the first 
French lines. By this means the artillery will 
not risk peppering its compatriots in the 
course of an advance. To-day the order came 
to raise the pennons over our first lines, so 
that our artillery can get the range of the 
enemy's positions. At two o'clock, therefore, 
they were hoisted. The astonishment of the 
Boches was promptly made manifest by a 
whirlwind of bullets which converted these 
common bits of cloth into glorious trophies. 
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DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

Then our artillery turned loose. It was our 
duty to observe the range and rectify it by 
telephone. One by one, with mathematical 
precision, big shells lighted on the German 
positions. There must be a formidable num- 
ber of batteries, for without a moment's pause 
or cessation shells poured on the Boche trench 
for three full hours. 

Meanwhile, very naturally, our friends 
across the way began to get peevish and sent 
off a few blasts of little 77's, which afforded 
great satisfaction to the makers of rings. One 
could hear them coming very distinctly; first, 
the six reports of the battery, then a hiss, then 
a detonation, not very terrifying. I was in the 
middle of the trench with my eye glued to a 
periscope. Several shells landed near; one fell 
on a decaying corpse in the midst of the wire, 
spreading about for several minutes the hor- 
rible heavy odor that reminded me of the night 
we buried the dead in Champagne. Another 
stupid shell chose to fall in the passage that 
led to my dug-out. The bags of sand were 
tumbled all about and it took more than half 
an hour's work before I could get into my 
quarters. My things were not at all damaged. 
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BEFORE THE GRAND OFFENSIVE 

And yet, at one moment explosive shells 
rained thick and fast, two or three on the par- 
apet, blowing to bits several loopholes. The 
machine gunners, who were playing cards 
near their gun, shut their dug-out with a tent- 
sheet. It is a thing I have often noticed and 
proves that, after all, man is not so different 
from the ostrich. One has the illusion of being 
secure behind the most flimsy barrier, if only 
it keeps out the sight of the danger — a hedge, 
a plank, a tent-sheet. It is an insult to rea- 
son, but that does n't matter. Brute instinct 
knows no reason. 

So the sector that on our arrival seemed 
asleep has had a rude awakening. Everything 
points to a coming offensive. I certainly hope 
we shall have a share in it. 

May 6. Night cahn. The Boches seemed 
non-existent. Our artillery quieted down. I 
was wakeful notwithstanding. The responsi- 
bility is too great. 

It is raining hard. There is water in the 
bottom of the trench, and it is impossible to 
move without taking a disagreeable foot- 
bath. 

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DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

But the aviators give signs of great activity. 
Since morning we have had the joy of watch- 
ing several reconnaissances. The 'planes were 
hotly bombarded, but to no purpose. 

Their flight must have been successful, for 
no sooner had they returned than our artillery 
set up a terrible spitting at the German 
trenches. It was not hurried, but was a slow, 
continuous, methodical fire which must have 
been very deadly. From the second line we 
sent off the Httle winged bombs, the ^'cauli- 
flowers" whose acquaintance we made in 
Champagne. They leap up, not very high, 
then hesitate an instant before they swoop 
down upon the Boches, exploding with a 
muffled thud which makes the ground tremble 
clear to our trench, while a spout of black 
smoke rises and floats a long time. In all the 
sectors where I have been, the superiority of 
our artillery becomes every day more evident. 

After dinner the question was telephoned: 
*' What are the special points the different sec- 
tion commanders would Hke to see battered 
by the artillery in case of a drive?'' I asked 
for the collaboration of all my men. I had the 
corporals explain to them the signs by which 
132 



BEFORE THE GRAND OFFENSIVE 

they could recognize the machine-gun posi- 
tions: better defenses, loopholes bigger, bags 
of sand more numerous and more carefully 
arranged. I took my glass and observed 
minutely all the points of the German trench. 
I went to the listening-post, and with the help 
of a much-perfected field-glass periscope, 
which magnifies in addition to giving a view 
over the edge, I probed the German position. 
At the end of more than an hour's work, util- 
izing the observations of my men, I was able 
to fix almost to a certainty the positions of 
four machine guns. I marked on the plan of 
the trenches that had been given us the exact 
points to be hammered, and the document was 
sent along the hierarchical paths and in due 
time reached the artillery. 

Then we indulged in a little distraction. 
As the rain had stopped, I went to two of my 
best marksmen and proposed a match. It is 
very amusing to try one's skill in shooting. 
The objective point is a Boche loophole, that 
is to say, a piece of steel plate. If the balls 
touch, one hears a metallic ring and the hum 
of the ricochet. I made a good score, but I 
placed only nine balls out of ten, and was 

133 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

beaten by P. who got in all ten. The prize 
was a package of cigarettes. 

Everybody is in a good humor to-day. 
There is a great buzz of conversation. Some 
of the men are playing checkers, others cards. 
One man who is the happy recipient of an 
accordion is favoring us with popular tunes 
which everybody catches up in chorus. Really, 
it is very festive. 

This evening we go to the second line, in the 
shelters. Three of the four companies of our 
battalion are on the firing line, the fourth is in 
reserve. It is our turn now to be in reserve. 

May y. We are in marvellous shelters, 
where we laugh defiance to missiles of all sorts 
and kinds, even the 420's. Behind the second 
lines, galleries have been sunk, to which broad 
staircases give access. Around them is a sort 
of ditch which serves as a yard, on which the 
entrances open. They are vast tunnels, fifty 
feet underground, made by the engineers, — 
broad, supported by huge beams, and fur- 
nished with plank floors. They are about a 
hundred feet long, ten feet broad, and ten 
feet high, and are in every way comfortable. 
134 



BEFORE THE GRAND OFFENSIVE 

There are beds of straw, bags for pillows and 
candles for light. In the yard are suppHes: 
grenades, wire, trench shells, and casks of 
water. We officers have a special gallery with 
two compartments, a living-room and a sleep- 
ing-room. The Hving-room is provided with a 
huge fireplace, a big table, several stools, and 
a superb lamp. The bedroom is less sumptuous 
— a large space covered with a thick bed of 
straw where we shall sleep soundly. 

There has been unusual activity along the 
front these two days. Staff officers keep com- 
ing and going. Men have been carrying to the 
first lines quantities of hand grenades, wire, 
and ladders. Aeroplanes are circling busily 
through the air. The artillery sounds like an 
orchestra tuning its instruments before the 
s)rmphony. Important events are afoot. 

Evening. It's coming! The grand offensive is 
to be launched over a wide area. In the whole 
of Flanders the attempt is to be made to pierce 
the Boche front. We are going to try to get 
out of these accursed trenches and fight 
superbly, face to face. 

About five o'clock, just as we were sitting 
135 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

down at table, I was called to the comman- 
dant. My colleagues had also been summoned 
and we received our orders. To-morrow, at 
an hour not yet indicated, the regiment is to 
attack, in concert with those of the nine army 
corps that are massed in this region. It is the 
grand offensive — victory, perhaps. We are 
to go forward and jump over four enemy 
trenches, previously battered by the artillery, 
not stopping until we reach a ravine that can 
be seen through the glass eight hundred metres 
from our first line. We pore over the maps, and 
make sure of our exact goal. My company is 
to march at the head in open formation and 
lead the drive. The commandant thereupon 
shook hands with each of us in turn, and told 
us that he counted on every man to do his 
duty. 

I went back to my soldiers to issue the com- 
mand to get ready. Each man was to have 
two hundred cartridges, six grenades, and 
three days' rations, and was to carry his blan- 
ket slung crosswise over his shoulder. But 
while I was consulting with my colleagues the 
plan of the German positions, a message came 
that all orders were cancelled. The sudden 
136 



BEFORE THE GRAND OFFENSIVE 

let-down was not entirely pleasant, but we all 
shared somewhat the feeling of the sorry 
jester who said: ''All right, that gives us one 
more day to live." 

We count on coming out alive. But the 
nearness of danger is not without its anguish. 

We have been having a fine game of poker. 
I lost, so I shall be lucky. 

I am tired. My fellow ofl&cers have been 
asleep this long time. I am going to imitate 
them. The boom of our big guns is heavy and 
deep. 

May 8. lo p.m. It is for to-night. We are 
to take positions in the first line at 3 a.m. The 
time of the attack is not yet fixed. I have 
written a great many letters. Perhaps I have 
given way to my feelings in some of them. 
I did not tell my mother. I wrote her that 
new movements of troops are predicted for the 
near future, and that she is not to worry if she 
has no news of me for awhile. But I told the 
truth to my little godmother and to my old 
friend * * * 

But sadness and farewells I have put behind 
me. Now I am all a soldier, and a soldier filled 

137 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

with the determination to fight and to con- 
quer, and exalted by the work that is before 
him. If I die, and these are the last words I 
am destined to write, I want them to be 
Vive — Vive la France. 



CHAPTER X 

THE ATTACK 

June 9. In the silence and quiet of a little 
hospital room, near a window where pink and 
white thorn-trees make a fragrant screen, I 
am going to recall the nightmare of a month 
ago, and finish the record of my first cam- 
paign. 

As I read over the last few pages, the enthu- 
siasm I felt when they were written comes 
surging back. Neither time nor suffering 
can take it away from me. But the horror of 
the hours that followed our offensive on the 
terrible ninth of May is very nearly a thing 
of the past. It has been lifted and smoothed 
away in this peaceful white hospital by the 
angels who dwell in it — the sublime women 
of the French Red Cross. Not that I have for- 
gotten any part of the events of that day. 
The account I shall give of them will be exact. 

On the night before the attack, then, we 
were awakened about midnight by the begin- 
ning of the bombardment. Unable to sleep, 

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DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

we arose and got ready ahead of time. At 
last came the order to go forward to our 
fighting posts. One by one we moved along 
the dark, narrow trenches leading to the first 
lines. Above our head was the constant hiss- 
ing of our big shells on their way to the Boches. 
Once in the first line, we spent the long hours 
of waiting as comfortably as we could. 

Dawn came slowly. Through our loop-holes 
we could discern the gray line of the trenches 
we were to take, ploughed up by our artillery 
volcanoes. Regularly, almost mathematically, 
our heavy shells dropped on the enemy, 
demolishing their dug-outs, smashing their 
wire entanglements, shattering their trenches. 
At times, through my field-glass, I could dis- 
tinctly see human limbs scattered in the air 
along with the earth of the explosions. 

Meanwhile coffee was brought, and it was 
welcome in the chill of early morning. I went 
to each of my men in turn and spoke of that 
which was nearest his heart. I knew them well, 
my poilus. I tried to make them feel the con- 
fidence I felt, and in doing so, my own faith 
grew stronger and the last faint doubt that 
oppressed me was driven from my mind. 
140 



THE ATTACK 

The bombardment kept growing in inten- 
sity. It was seven o'clock. Several artillery 
officers came into my trench to control the 
precision of the fire," which was to clear our 
way of all outside obstacles — wire entangle- 
ments, chevaux-de-frise, the enemy trenches. 
The observation post was at a distance from 
the telephone, and the rectifications given by 
the officers were repeated down the line from 
man to man. In a short time, all was regulated 
and the storm began. It is impossible to real- 
ize the din of this firing. Guns of all calibres 
spit forth their shells with the maximum of 
rapidity. This lasted three hours, three deafen- 
ing, maddening hours. In the midst of the 
storm of steel and fire the brigadier-general 
arrived. He said a few words to me. I told 
him I was as sure of my men as of myself. He 
seemed satisfied and gave me the hour of at- 
tack, ten o'clock. 

Ten o'clock ! Every one looked at his watch. 
Nine o'clock. So in an hour then. It is an 
hour tense with emotion. Faces that are near 
give place to other faces. The hand seeks some 
loved token, the eye lingers on a letter, a pho- 
tograph, or is fixed upon the Book of Prayer. 
141 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

Five minutes to ten ! I take my place at the 
foot of my ladder. In those last moments 
thoughts come rapidly. On this ladder hangs 
our destiny. In the trench there is relative 
security. What vnll become of us at the top 
of those four rounds ? But no one thinks of 
hesitating. We seem to be in the grasp of 
some unknown and mighty force. 

I seize my revolver and make sure of my 
grenades. One minute to ten. At this instant 
comes a rumbling detonation which causes the 
ground to tremble as if shaken by an earth- 
quake. Our mines have exploded. This is the 
time. 

** Attention! Forward, mes petits, and Vive 
la France!^' 

This cry burst from every throat, and I 
sprang up my ladder, followed by my men. 
From that moment I was carried forward by 
the intoxication of the assault. I ran, gesticu- 
lating and yelling. I did not see, but rather 
felt, my men close to me, running by my side, 
and, like myself, drunk with a sublime mad- 
ness. We reached the first German trench. 
W^e threw hand grenades. But no n\dng thing 
was there. Confusedly in my onward rush I 
142 



THE ATTACK 

saw heaps of earth and corpses. The bom- 
bardment had almost levelled the trench. For- 
ward, still forward. We kept running breath- 
lessly, carried away by the strange fascination 
of victory and by the joy of treading the soil 
we were giving back to France. I went ahead, 
unconscious of those who were falhng by the 
way. My intelligence was numbed. A greater 
force was urging me on. 

After passing the second trench, I noticed 
that our ranks had thinned, but we went on 
and plunged into the third trench. A furious 
hand-to-hand fight followed. I unloaded my 
revolver almost instinctively on a German 
who was aiming at me. By this time our sec- 
ond wave of assault was coming up to us. I 
quickly decided to join it and push forward. I 
was covered with sweat and blood — with the 
blood of the Boche I had killed. I was in a 
frenzy. I ran toward the fourth trench, the 
last one to be captured before reaching our 
goal. I went on, hypnotized by that trench 
which seemed to be running to meet me. I 
wanted it. It belonged to me. I could see the 
enemy through the gaps our artillery had 
made in their defenses. 

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DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

Suddenly I fell. I was alone. Above my 
head was the constant whizzing of bullets; 
near by, the significant snorting of a machine 
gun. At first I was a little stunned, then I 
attempted to rise and felt that my right arm 
moved with difficulty. My coat was covered 
with blood. My arm hung limp. I felt it. I 
tried to understand. Wounded, of course. 
But what of my soldiers? I raised my head; 
a bullet struck the ground very near. I fell 
back, but I had had time enough to see. No- 
body in front of me. Nobody behind me. 
Corpses all around. I was alone, ten yards 
from the enemy's trench. I could see the 
Boches moving in it. With my left hand I got 
hold of my revolver that was still hanging to 
the fingers of my other hand. But what was 
the use of firing left-handed? I should miss 
and they would make an end of me. 

To advance was impossible. To go back 
was equally impossible. The least move would 
be my death. The bullets above my head kept 
up a fearful hum. It seemed as if I could not 
possibly get out of this, and passive, resigned, 
I flattened myself against the ground and re- 
mained motionless. 

144 



THE ATTACK 

This situation could not last. If I did not 
get under shelter, one of those bullets would 
surely find me out. Near by, within a few 
yards, a slight rise in the ground indicated a 
possible cavity. With great care, without ap- 
parent motion, inch by inch, I dragged my- 
self to it. Think of my joy. It was a large fun- 
nel, dug out by a German mine, and a score of 
wounded had taken refuge in it. Still another 
effort and I found myself among them. The 
cavity was five or six yards deep, and very 
wide at the top. A few dead lay prone upon 
the edge, poor fellows, killed at the moment 
when, like myself, they saw salvation in that 
hole. 

I recognized in the crater three of my own 
men. One of them, wounded in the thigh, was 
applying a bandage with the help of a comrade. 
When this was done he cut the sleeve of my 
coat, then my jacket sleeve, and finally my shirt 
sleeve. He poured a little tincture of iodine on 
the wound. The elbow was pierced through 
and through. He dressed it with bandages 
from the package every soldier carries, and 
made a sling with a piece of tent-sheet. And 
then, profoundly moved to find ourselves there 
145 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

after that mad race, officer and man met in 
a silent embrace, expressing by that gesture 
what words failed to voice. 

The captain of the company which marched 
immediately behind us was also there, down- 
cast, raging like the rest of us at being in this 
stupid and terrible situation. Some of the men 
were slightly wounded, but one man had a big 
hole in his stomach. The poor wretch lay 
panting and moaning. At times he screamed 
in spite of our efforts to keep him still. The 
cries were heard by the Boches whose trench 
was scarcely ten yards away, and in accord- 
ance with their noble custom of killing the 
wounded, they threw grenades in our direction. 
Fortunately, they fell short of us, but they 
increased our anxiety, as well as our disgust 
and hatred. 

Above our heads the air was lashed with a 
terrible cross-fire. The sad truth began to 
come home to me that our advance had been 
checked after the third trench. And what of 
my men, my poilus whom I so loved? Dead? 

Meanwhile our own plight was extremely 
critical. Our lives hung by a very slender 
thread. For the present, the unceasing fire of 
146 



THE ATTACK 

machine guns prevented our escape. Sooner 
or later the Germans would launch a counter- 
attack and put an end to us with their hand 
grenades. And again, if the French pursued 
the offensive, they would renew the bombard- 
ment, and in all probability we should be 
struck by our own shells. As for surrendering 
to the Boches, — they were near enough — 
every man of us would rather starve in that 
hole. These thoughts and the pain from my 
wound prostrated me for a moment. I felt 
myself losing consciousness and I took a few 
drops from a flask of cordial that happened 
to be in my bag, and I revived. 

Then came a brief lull. Time dragged 
along slowly, very slowly. Toward noon a 
fusillade broke forth in the enemy's trench. 
A ray of hope. Were the French carrying 
their attack to the fourth line? A man sud- 
denly stumbled into our crater. He was one of 
my own soldiers. He was without his equip- 
ment. He saw me and, weeping and laughing, 
embraced me. I asked him where he came 
from and why he had no gun, no bayonet, no 
grenades. In a distracted voice he told me his 
story. 

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DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

After I had been wounded and knocked 
down, my soldiers kept on running forward 
and jumped into the fourth German trench. 
But their ranks had thinned, and they were 
too few. Some were killed, others disarmed. 
The latter were told by the Boches after a 
time : '' You are not wanted. Get out of here. " 
My men were bewildered. They could not 
understand. Again they were ordered to leave, 
and finally they leaped out of the trench and 
began running back to the French position. 
The brutes then fired upon them from behind. 
All were killed evidently, with the exception 
of this soldier, who owed his life to the crater 
into which he had providentially fallen. 

My grief was intense. I had lost all my 
brave men, and I was powerless to avenge 
them. To this mental torture was added the 
suffering from my wound. The hot rays of 
the sun came directly upon us. Hand gre- 
nades fell again into the crater. We crouched 
close to the ground. 

Presently French 75's and 105's began to 

burst over the German trench. We watched 

the shells. They were very, very near us. One 

75 exploded just above our heads and the 

148 



THE ATTACK 

impact threw the body of a dead soldier al- 
most on top of me. It was a terrible feeling 
to be under the fire of our own guns. Another 
shell burst and blew to pieces that very sol- 
dier of mine who had escaped the odious mas- 
sacre. We quickly threw a tent-sheet over this 
abomination. We were fully conscious of the 
horror of our situation. Another explosion cut 
off the foot of a sergeant, and in spite of his 
screams I poured a flask of iodine on his wound. 
Then, for the first time, I gave up all hope. We 
had made a sacrifice of our lives and motion- 
less, resigned, we sat silently waiting. 

But an idea came to me. There were heavy 
planks in the bottom of the crater, which had 
been used to prop the explosion chamber of 
the mine. With much difficulty we moved 
them together, leaning them against the side 
of the crater. Under this shelter we all hud- 
dled. Several times our wooden structure was 
violently shaken by explosions, and our wounds 
were racked at each shock, but more than 
that we were not hurt. This lasted a long 
time, an infinitely long time. The hours do 
not seem to move under such circumstances. 

Finally the captain, the only man in the 
149 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

crater who was not wounded, declared that 
he was going to the French trench to have the 
firing stopped. In spite of our protests, for 
we knew that he would meet death on the 
way, he went out under the bombardment. 

A long time afterward the firing from our 
side ceased. Could the captain have reached 
our trenches? And hope revived in us again. 
We all wanted to leave this inferno at once. 
But the German machine guns started in 
afresh. We must wait for the night. 

The sun was getting low. The bombard- 
ment ceased and we came out from under the 
protection of our planks. We stretched out on 
the ground, which was all furrowed by shells. 
The wounded were moaning, some had the 
death rattle. I was exhausted, and somehow 
I fell asleep. When I awoke it was already 
dusk. The hour of deliverance was near. But 
as soon as night came, rockets flashed from 
the German trench and a fusillade burst forth. 
Possibly some of the wounded had tried to 
return to our lines and were being shot from 
behind. Our hope grew dim, and we wondered 
if we should ever get away. We were horrified 
to think we might have to spend another day 
150 



THE ATTACK 

in that hole. Better die at once, die in an 
effort to get back, die with hope in our hearts. 

About nine o'clock the man least wounded 
among us decided to venture forth. His plan 
was, on reaching the French line, to request 
that a trench be dug out in our direction so 
that we could return in safety. We agreed 
upon a signal to be given by our machine 
guns: twice four sharp shots to establish the 
communication; three times three slow shots 
would indicate that we must wait until they 
came for us; three times three rapid shots that 
we should have to escape by our own means. 

Half an hour or more elapsed. Rockets 
kept flashing in the night and the machine 
guns never stopped. We began to fear for the 
fate of our comrade. Yet at last came the sig- 
nal — three times three rapid shots. Come 
back, come hack, come hack, said the French 
guns. We had to count on ourselves alone. 
Then we decided to crawl to our lines. 

One by one, at long intervals, we left. Only 
one could not leave, the man wounded in the 
stomach. "So you forsake me," he moaned. 
I spread my blanket over him and promised 
to send for him. I knew this was impossible, 

151 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

but my deception might help him to die in 
hope. I also knew the terror of dying there 
slowly, and alone, all alone. But he was be- 
yond our help. 

The German guns were firing violently on 
the French positions. We did not realize this 
during the day, as our anguish and pain kept 
us from studying the battle. It was foolhardy 
to go forth under the bombardment, but we 
were really crazed. A single idea, a fixed idea, 
remained with us — to go back, to go back by 
all means, or die. For my own part, I was 
not quite conscious of what I was doing. 

I could not crawl on my stomach. I was 
obliged to lie on my back, and advance head 
first toward the French trench. The rockets 
gave me a glimpse of our lines. They were 
several hundred yards distant. I pushed my- 
self along with my feet as does a man when 
swimming on his back. As soon as a rocket 
flashed its light, I remained motionless, feign- 
ing death among the dead. And in those few 
instants of immobility, I could hear my heart 
beat, and a vague horrible murmur made up 
of moans and cries of men dying, and of 
wounded calling for help. I passed by a sol- 
152 



THE ATTACK 

dier who was groaning feebly. I recognized 
him and tried to drag him with me. With 
great difficulty I managed to pull him a few 
feet. And then I saw that I was dragging a 
corpse. 

This Calvary lasted long, frightfully long. 
Several times I bumped my head into dead 
bodies. Crawling backward I could not see 
these obstacles. At one moment, I found my- 
self under a corpse. The body was in a kneel- 
ing position and leaning forward. I had its 
face against my face, and its open eyes seemed 
to stare at me. The magnesium light of a 
rocket made that face appear still more livid. 
I worked myself free and went on over that 
rough, chaotic ground, falHng into shell holes, 
jostling the dead. But my whole being was 
strained to the one idea — to go back, to reach 
the French trench to which I was drawing 
nearer and nearer. I began talking out loud. 
Without knowing it, I must have talked a good 
deal. I found myself saying over half-forgot- 
ten snatches of Virgil : — 

" Est in conspectu Tenedos, uotissima fama 
Insula, dives opum. . . ." 

It was indeed ''in conspectu," that trench, 
153 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

and likewise "dives opum" — richer than any 
Island of the Blest. 

Meanwhile German shells kept falling in 
rapid succession. I was covered with earth 
several times, and once roughly shaken up. 
But now the goal was very near. I shouted 
with all my might: "France, France, I am 
a lieutenant of the Eleventh Company." I 
dimly heard voices saying: "This way, this 
way." I directed myself by those voices. 
My strength was almost gone. I got entangled 
in wire defenses. My arm hurt unbearably. 
A shell that fell near stunned me. I felt my- 
self being seized and pulled. I fell into the 
trench — the French trench. Then I fainted. 



CHAPTER XI 

EVACUATION — THE SANITARY TRAIN — THE 
HOSPITAL 

When I regained consciousness I was in the 
dug-out of an officer of the machine-gun sec- 
tion. He gave me some brandy, and I revived. 
Ahnost immediately afterward came the 
Boche counter-attack. It was met by the fire 
from their own machine guns, and was 
quickly beaten back. With my left hand I 
unloaded the six bullets of my revolver into 
the dark shadows advancing toward us. This 
much I could do for my soldiers. 

But when the danger was over, my nerve 
suddenly left me, and I was frightened, as 
frightened as a child in the dark. I was afraid 
to go alone to the dressing-station, and waited 
to walk along with the stretcher-bearers. We 
had to go a long distance. I realized that we 
had covered a good deal of ground in the 
morning, and I was filled with hope. Why 
should not our men do the same thing the next 
day, and then the next, until we could raise 
our heads and say: ''Ours the victory!" 

155 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

When the surgeons had dressed my wound, 
I was placed on a stretcher and lifted into 
an ambulance. Then began the journey to 
the rear. 

A day and a half later, after a chaotic ride 
through the darkness, I reached the hospital 
of the beautiful little town of Arras, where 
the wounded are collected from the various 
dressing-stations. I was taken into a vast 
ward and undressed by two orderlies, who 
cut away my coat and jacket and put me to 
bed between clean sheets. In spite of a battery 
that was booming right beside the hospital, 
and in spite of the pain in my arm, I went 
to sleep, utterly worn out. 

The next morning I was helped into my 
clothes and put almost immediately into an 
automobile to be taken toward the rear, ever 
farther and farther from the din of battle, 
which was still going on. We met a great num- 
ber of convoys of troops on their way to rein- 
force the front, infantr}' transported in hea\'y 
trucks, as we had been ten days before, artil- 
lery- drawn by caterpillar tractors, and masses 
of cavalry waiting for the forward dash. 
Truly, everything seemed ready for pushing 
156 



EVACUATION 

far ahead. And I was enraged at being 
wounded at such a moment, for the thought 
of our advance was magnificent and inspiring. 

The motor came to a stop in a little village 
of this luxuriant region of Artois. The hos- 
pital where we were cared for momentarily was 
in the schoolhouse. I was given a hypodermic 
of serum to prevent tetanus. The schoohnis- 
tress, who still kept a single room for her 
classes, learning that I belonged to the Uni- 
versity, asked me to go home to lunch with 
her. She was exquisitely kind and thoughtful, 
waiting on me, preparing my food and helping 
me to eat. Then I lay down on her bed. I was 
at the end of my strength. 

Toward evening I was again put into an 
automobile, and again came a confused ride 
over torn-up roads. My arm was very pain- 
ful. I felt my hand swelling and growing 
heavy and feverish. It was late when we 
reached the evacuation hospital, where I once 
more went to bed. I found there one of my 
companions in misery, an adjutant wounded 
in the thigh. The next morning very early we 
were awakened by violent detonations. It 
was German aeroplanes throwing bombs on 
157 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

the station and the hospital. One of them 
fell very near the building where we poor 
wretches were lying. Could the barbarians 
attack even us? 

In that immense hospital ward was every 
sort of horrible wound. No part of the body 
had been spared. But what impressed me 
most was an officer in the bed next to mine, 
totally disfigured by a shell — a repulsive 
monster, ignoble, with neither nose nor lips. 
I saw him plainly when they were dressing 
his wound. And it hurt me. 

At noon I got into an automobile again, 
this time to go only as far as the station, 
where the sanitary train was waiting for us. 
There were two kinds of coaches, one with 
comfortable swinging stretchers for wounded 
who were not able to sit up, and for the rest 
of us ordinary first and second-class coaches. 
I was in a first-class compartment with a 
lieutenant who was ill, a second lieutenant 
wounded in the hand, and a colonel who had a 
quantity of little shell splinters in his leg. I 
happened to be the worst x)ff of any of them, 
and it was touching the way they all tried to 
do some little thing to make me comfortable. 
158 



THE SANITARY TRAIN 

The colonel helped me get settled, cut my 
meat, ahnost fed me. He was like a father, and 
it was very affecting to see this old colonel, 
all covered with medals, waiting upon a little 
lieutenant who was scarcely out of his teens. 

At the big stations, Amiens particularly, 
they took off the wounded who were suffering 
most. But in spite of the pain and fever in my 
arm, I wanted to stay on the train. I kept 
thinking it was going to take me to the South, 
to the Riviera, where my family was at that 
moment. 

At nightfall we arrived just outside of 
Paris, and there the train waited until morn- 
ing. It was the same station where we had 
stopped nearly twenty days before, on return- 
ing from the Meuse. In the morning the faith- 
ful ladies of the Red Cross came with cheerful 
smiles to bring us cups of hot coffee. Then the 
train steamed slowly out. We met some Boche 
prisoners who were also being evacuated. Be 
it said to the honor of the French wounded, no 
cry against the barbarians went up from our 
train; France knows the respect that is due a 
vanquished enemy. 

After that the train sauntered along all day 
159 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

in the direction of the Loire. We stopped at 
many stations in peaceful, shaded country- 
sides, and at each of these havens a few of the 
wounded got out. At every station young girls 
came to bring us flowers, fresh eggs, illustrated 
papers, and likewise their smiles, admiring, a 
little tender too, and grateful. I was especially 
touched by the flowers. They brought them 
by armfuls and loaded us down. We suddenly 
began to have a glimmering of our lofty estate 
as wounded. The attentions of those exquisite 
women made us almost imagine we had done 
something worth while. But this did not lessen 
the deep gratitude with which we accepted 
their gifts. 

The debt of gratitude that I vowed from 
that moment to the women of France has been 
growing daily greater since I have been in this 
hospital. I reached here late at night. At the 
station the wounded were divided among the 
different hospitals of the town and I was 
assigned to the hospital of r Union des Femmes 
de France, a private institution, housed in the 
buildings of the Girls' Normal School. At the 
entrance, white figures stood out against the 
dim light. When I went in, I was met by 
1 60 



THE HOSPITAL 

smiling faces, and two of the ladies accom- 
panied me to my room. There they took off 
my clothes and gave me my first bath in many 
days, doing all this simply, gently, tenderly, 
laughing at me a little if I was embarrassed, 
as can well be imagined. Could anything be 
more wonderful than to see the devotion with 
which these deHcately reared women perform 
all kinds of unpleasant and unwonted tasks? 
And always with the same cheerfulness, the 
same gentleness, the same patience, for 
wounded soldiers are far from being agreeable 
at times. If there is any virtue in the soldiers 
of France, a thousand times more worth are 
its women, whose very presence and smile 
brings healing. I fell under the charm of it at 
once, and my first night was a good one. But 
after that, fever came on. The violent shocks 
I had been through brought on cerebral con- 
gestion, and I knew nothing further for some 
days. When I came to myself, I found my 
mother at my bedside. She had been with 
me for a week, though I had not known her. 
After that my arm was treated to more 
purpose. It was necessary to operate several 
times. As soon as I was able to be out, I was 
i6i 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

loaded with invitations. All my nurses asked 
me to their homes, likewise the doctor, whom 
I had completely won over, it seems, by the 
very learned character of my divagations 
when I was off my head. I have come back to 
a life of perpetual pampering, sweet, active, 
calm, and unspeakably happy. 

My arm is in a plaster cast. I am writing 
with my left hand. My room opens out on a 
large garden, full of flowers and fragrance. I 
have got back to my books again, and I am 
growing stronger. To be alive is infinitely 
good. 

June 2j. This morning I was decorated with 
the Croix de Guerre. For several days back 
my nurses have been going around with an 
air of mystery. They looked at me and whis- 
pered, and for all answer to my questions, did 
nothing but smile. They had become perfectly 
inscrutable. Even the doctor, who plied me 
with his usual volley of jokes, refused to 
enlighten me. Not until his visit of this morn- 
ing did he deign to inform me that the gen- 
eral in charge of this section was going to 
take the trouble to bring me something. 
162 



THE HOSPITAL 

In the courtyard of the hospital, with its 
chestnut trees in blossom, and its decorations 
of flags, were assembled all the wounded who 
were able to be about, some seated, others 
lying in reclining-chairs. The ladies in charge 
of the hospital and all the nurses in their 
fresh white uniforms were laughing and talk- 
ing. I was talking to a comrade and feeling 
not a little embarrassed. 

Finally the General arrived, together with 
several staff officers. The doctor presented the 
hospital staff to him and then he presented me. 
By way of a right arm, I had a big bundle 
of plaster and bandages which prevented me 
from being properly clad in my regimentals. 
The General unfolded a large paper and read 
in the midst of complete silence: — 

''Second Lieutenant R. N., the Army cites 
you in the Order of the Day for the following 
reasons: — 

"Lieutenant N., under a very deadly fire, 
led forward his section to the charge upon the 
German positions. With great gallantry, he 
pushed on with his men to a point in ad- 
vance of the third German line, where he was 
wounded." 

163 



DIARY OF A FRENCH OFFICER 

And the General came toward me as I stood 
there trembling a little, and pinned to my 
jacket the Croix de Guerre. Then he took my 
left hand and pressed it silently. I felt that 
everybody was looking at me. I was very 
much overcome. I must have looked foolish. 

The doctor, a sort of demi-god whom we all 
adore, began to say something. It was about 
me, doubtless, but I had not the least idea 
what. I longed for the whole thing to be over. 
He came up to me and embraced me. 

After that we went to the house of the 
directress and drank champagne. It all seemed 
endless, and my one wish was to be alone, 
quite alone, so as to give myself up to the 
immense, prodigious joy that was mine, the 
joy that came as a reward for doing my duty. 
How can I endure this waiting to get well? I 
must get back to the front. I will prove 
to my country that not in vain does she re- 
ward her children. 

THE END 



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